


Chaos Theory

by sgamadison, the_cephalopod



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Episode Related, First Time, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-25
Updated: 2012-04-25
Packaged: 2017-11-04 07:33:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 34,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/391341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sgamadison/pseuds/sgamadison, https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_cephalopod/pseuds/the_cephalopod
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Faint little alarm bells sounded in John's head. Rodney's speech had overtones of 'It's not you, it's me' to it and John had not yet steeled himself to say anything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chaos Theory

**Author's Note:**

> We'd both wanted to write a story about the Rodney/Ronon/Jennifer love triangle to set the story straight about what was *really* going on and how John fitted into it all. So, when we saw the post about Unamaga and Chopchica's Happyfest on LJ, we were thrilled as it seemed like the perfect opportunity. In addition to thanking Unamaga and Chopchica for running the fabulous fest, we'd also like to thank Patk and Vida_boheme for the inspiration their journal entries and resulting discussion on the relevant season 5 episodes gave us. Finally, we've incorporated a small amount of the dialogue from Tracker into the story, courtesy of Gateworld.
> 
> SPOILERS: Up to the Season 5 episode 'Tracker'.

John stood in front of his open closet, looking morosely at the contents within. Didn't he have anything that wasn't _black_? He'd already taken an unreasonable amount of time deciding whether or not to redress in his BDUs post shower, but now that he'd decided to go civilian, he realized he really didn't have all that much to wear. He'd selected the khaki cargo pants initially, only to discover they were missing a button at the fly and he didn't feel like dragging out the mending kit just now. He'd opted for his well-worn jeans and despite the fact that he preferred his clothing somewhat baggy; they'd dragged over his skin, still damp from the shower. He'd zipped up carefully, making sure not to catch hair in an uncomfortable location. The plain white cotton shirt he'd planned to wear with them was hopelessly wrinkled from being balled up and tossed on the closet shelf from the last time he'd worn it. The Kelly green Izod had a distinctly funky smell to it. When was the last time he'd done any laundry?  
  
  
In the end, he settled on the blue cotton shirt, an old favorite, even though it had been washed so many times it was starting to get a little thin. He rolled up the sleeves as he padded around barefoot in his quarters, unable to stop moving. _Maybe this was a bad idea_. It wasn't too late. He hadn't committed himself to anything yet. As a matter of fact, he could just chill out here in his quarters; get a little reading in, maybe practice the guitar. Yeah. That was a good plan.  
  
  
He was just getting comfortable with the change in plans when the door chimed. Unconsciously, he glanced at his watch. A little after 2100. The door chimed again before he could move and a smile was on his face as he called out, "Door's open."  
  
  
Rodney, as predicted, came barreling into the room. "Oh good, you're here." He seemed surprised and pleased at the same time and John reminded himself that was no big deal. Rodney had been through a lot lately.  
  
  
Half a dozen smirky responses flitted through John's mind, but he settled on a simple, "What's up, Rodney?" instead.  
  
  
"I just wanted to...oh, hey." Rodney frowned suddenly, his hand moving up to gesture towards John. "I'm not interrupting...that is to say, you're not...?"  
  
  
John raised an eyebrow and waited. When Rodney continued to stare at him, train of thought obviously stalled out, he prompted, "I'm not what?"  
  
  
Rodney blinked and then frowned again. "Do you have plans?"  
  
  
John glanced down, taking in the bare feet, the comfortable jeans, the lightweight, only-slightly-wrinkled shirt. "Nothing in particular," he shrugged.  
  
  
"You took a shower," Rodney persisted, as though trying to catch John in a lie.  
  
  
"I went running with Ronon." John hooked a thumb in a jeans pocket and rested his hand against his hipbone.  
  
  
"And shaved." Rodney looked as though he were trying to work out the best answer to the grand unification theory in his head.  
  
  
John shrugged again. "I was already there," he said, by way of answer.  
  
  
Rodney seemed unconvinced. "I can come back later if I'm interrupting something." He motioned first up and down at John and then vaguely over his shoulder. "If, you know, you have a date or something."  
  
  
There was an awkward little pause and then John said easily, "As a matter of fact, I was thinking about going to find you."  
  
  
"Really?" Rodney's face lit up and for an instant, John wished Rodney could see himself like this. "Cool. Because I wanted to talk with you."  
  
  
 _Huh._ Maybe this would go better than he'd hoped.  
  
  
"It's really nice out," Rodney smiled at him. "You want to go out on the pier?"  
  
  
"I'll grab the beer," John answered, moving towards the mini-fridge.  
  
  
Rodney was right; it was nice out. The temperature was just starting to drop as the first of the moons was rising over the sea, but it was still pleasant, no need for a jacket just yet. Rodney settled himself down at the end of the pier, booted feet dangling over the edge. John seated himself a comfortable yet not-too-far distance away, crossed his feet at the ankles, popped open a can of beer and passed it over to Rodney, who accepted it silently and went back to staring at the moonrise. John opened his own beer and took a swig. Around them, the lights of the city were coming on, steadily brightening as the twilight deepened.  
  
  
"You really _are_ a good friend, John." Rodney's voice was uncharacteristically full of warmth. He glanced sideways at John, a happy; almost shy expression on his face.  
  
  
"Rodney," John protested out of habit, ignoring the warm sensation in his chest, the feeling that it _would_ be okay and that this was the time to say what he had to say.  
  
  
"No, really, John." Rodney took a deep breath and let it out with satisfaction. "That's why you wouldn't let me say goodbye. You wouldn't give up on me. I really appreciate that."  
  
  
 _That's not the only reason, buddy._ John hesitated, taking a breath to speak, but Rodney rolled on.   
  
  
"As a matter of fact, that's why I wanted to talk to you tonight. Because you have been such a good friend and because I'm pretty sure you can help me now."  
  
  
Faint little alarm bells sounded in John's head. Rodney's little speech had overtones of 'It's not you, it's _me_ ' to it and John had not yet steeled himself to say anything.  
  
  
"See, it's like this," Rodney smiled out at the reflection of the moon on the ocean, small waves sending the moonbeam rippling towards them on a ribbon of gleaming water. "I'm in love with Keller."  
  
  
A band of steel constricted in John's chest at the words and a little voice within him sighed and said ' _here we go again_ '. He took another swallow of beer, admiring the steadiness of his voice when he spoke at last. "Don't you mean 'Jennifer'?"  
  
  
Rodney looked at him sharply, startled. "What? Oh. Right. Whatever. Don't start with me, Colonel Linguistics. Didn't you hear what I just said?"  
  
  
"I heard you, Rodney." John suppressed his sigh.   
  
  
Maybe not enough, because Rodney sounded distinctly suspicious when he spoke, unlike the relaxed persona he'd been ever since they'd returned from Talos. "You have a problem with this?"  
  
  
John played with the ring tab on the beer can, bending the metal back and forth until it fatigued and broke off in his hand. He flicked the small piece of metal away from him, watching it fall into the darkness of the water below. "I just think not all that long ago you were in love with Katie. Seems a bit sudden, doesn't it?"  
  
  
"Litterbug," Rodney said shortly and then sighed himself. "Point taken. But this is different."  
  
  
"Different how?" John couldn't look at Rodney as he gave his explanations—he stared down at the can of beer in his hands.  
  
  
"Well, Katie and I didn't have anything in common, not _really_. I mean, I think I was in love with the idea of being in love, if you know what I mean. She was sweet and she seemed to like me, a rare enough occurrence that it seemed like it _meant_ something, that we could build a life together. I looked around and everything seemed to be moving so fast, you know?" Rodney had no qualms about turning to face John as he spoke. "One day I'm twenty and I'm the hotshot wunderkind on campus and the next I'm thirty and so full of myself I can't envision ever making a mistake and the next I'm forty and I've blown up 5/6 of a solar system and traveled to another galaxy." Rodney set down his beer and brought his hands together in his lap, tapping his thumbs repeatedly. "And I realized that my life is half over and I want more than I've settled for so far."  
  
  
"You offered Katie your hand in marriage because you were going through a midlife crisis?' John could not help the incredulous tone to his voice and he laughed in relief when Rodney began to laugh as well.  
  
  
"No, no, it's worse than that," Rodney chuckled. He picked up his beer can and waved it in a mock salute at John. "I proposed to her because of _you_."  
  
  
John's heart stopped dead in his chest for a moment before it began to thud again at twice the previous speed.  
  
  
"What are you talking about, McKay?" He deliberately drawled, keeping things cool.  
  
  
"My charming sister," Rodney twisted up his mouth in a grimace at John before he took another sip of beer, "in all her infinite wisdom, suggested that I should take what I could get, that I could do no better than Katie because I was 'no John Sheppard'." He made little finger quotes here at John.  
  
  
John choked on his beer. "Okay," he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, "your sister's full of crap, you know that right?"  
  
  
"I know that she's right in that I'm not _you_." Rodney nodded thoughtfully as he swallowed some more beer. "I'm not. You're cool and hot and you've got the smirk and the hair and that slinky something or other that makes people just notice when you walk into the room. I've got my own charms and I know they lie in other areas. But Jeannie was wrong about my not being able to do better."  
  
  
The light of the rising moon shone on Rodney's face and something inside John pulled back in on itself at the beaming expression he found there.  
  
  
"What makes you so sure it's Jennifer then?" Aside from the fact that she was young and smart and hot. Really hot. He remembered that in the alternate timeline, the one where he went missing, Rodney and Jennifer had returned to Earth as a couple. Maybe the two of them were destined to be together whether or not he was present. It was a depressing thought. He suddenly pictured Jennifer lifting her face up towards Rodney with a smile, watching in sick fascination as that crooked mouth took possession of her lips, the strong hand stroking her jaw line, her reciprocating hand placed squarely on his chest...  
  
  
"Well, that's the beauty of it," Rodney was openly smiling now. "See, with Katie I was always trying to be on my best behavior and it was nearly impossible to sustain. But Jennifer's seen me at my very worst, and she still seems to like me. And we've both taken turns at the whole saving each other's life thing. Okay, she might have a _slightly_ unfair advantage there because she's, you know, a _medical_ doctor and everything, but still." Rodney bumped shoulders with John, still smiling. "So we're good, you see?"  
  
  
"I can see where that would be an unfair advantage," John said with only a slight smirk, into his beer. Rodney shot him an evil glance.  
  
  
"So what's the problem?" John added stiffly, hoping his lack of enthusiasm wouldn't show.  
  
  
Rodney's face fell. "Ronon," he said succinctly.  
  
  
"Ah," John agreed. He'd noted the somewhat predatory glances Ronon had been shooting Keller's way for a while now, and the way "Jennifer' was now more often than not included at team mealtimes. He'd been pleased on Ronon's behalf, happy to know that Ronon felt comfortable enough to try to start something with someone, a sign that he was willing to put down roots. And to know that someone, somewhere, was getting some action. But lately he hadn't been so sure that the two of them were together, and it just wasn't the sort of thing he'd ask. "Um, you're not asking me to ask Ronon to step aside, are you?" _Because that could get really messy._  
  
  
"What? _No_!" Rodney's face took on the expression of a startled and horrified rabbit. "God, no. What made you think I'd ask something like that? For one thing, if you did and he did, then how would I ever know that Jennifer really wanted to be with me?"  
  
  
John shrugged, sipping his beer. "So what do you want my help for?"  
  
  
Rodney ducked his head momentarily, fingers picking at the edge of the pier. "Well." He let out his breath in a little huff of air. "I thought maybe. Well, _you_ know."  
  
  
"No, Rodney, I don't know," John said in an overly patient voice. "I left my Rodney-compiler in the geek brain back in my quarters."  
  
  
"So that's how you do it," Rodney grinned slyly. "I _thought_ that the geek brain didn't come standard issue with the flyboy model." Rodney flicked his fingers up and down in the general direction of John's body where he sat. "But they're networked, right?"  
  
  
John snorted out a laugh. "You're changing the subject."  
  
  
Rodney bit his lip and nodded. "Yes. Well, yes and no. See, what I want is for you to teach me how to be cool."  
  
  
"What?" It took all John's effort not to spit beer again at Rodney's statement. He didn't want to start making a habit of that. "Rodney," he said, his voice coming out somewhat strangled, "you know, I'm really not all that cool."  
  
  
Rodney tipped his head back, his eyes narrowing as he folded his arms across his chest. "Oh please. Look, if you don't want to help me..."  
  
  
"I didn't say that!" John protested. "I'm just saying...maybe I'm not the best example...you know what? Why don't you get Teyla to help you with this? I mean, she's gotta know what Jennifer wants, right?"  
  
  
Rodney made the sort of face he made when John said something really stupid during a technical crisis like, "why can't you just fix it?" He sighed and flapped a hand in John's direction. "You know what Teyla will say. She'll tell me to just 'be myself' and we all know what kind of crap answer _that_ is."  
  
  
John nodded in silent sympathy. It was one of those incomprehensible girl things that Teyla would say that would leave Rodney with no clear direction as to how to proceed. "So what exactly is it you want me to do?"  
  
  
Rodney conspiratorially hitched a hip closer to John; seemingly sure John was on board now. John could feel the heat coming off his body in the cool night air. "Well, I've been watching you...you know, how people react to you...for years now. And it never fails. Within moments of our arrival on some deserted planet somewhere, some hot chick appears and makes a play for you."  
  
  
"Rodney..." John began but was forestalled by the upraised hand.  
  
  
"Well, okay, every seemingly deserted planet that turns out really to be inhabited. And not just the women mind you, but the men too. Oh don't get all squiffy on me."  
  
  
John had opened his mouth to protest again but Rodney rolled on. "I'm not casting aspersions on your sexual orientation, if that's what you're worried about. I'm merely saying that you have this utterly effortless, universal sex appeal and I _want to know how you do it_."  
  
  
Rodney was staring at him earnestly and it occurred to John that he'd never before had a better opening to discuss his sexual orientations with Rodney or had felt less inclined to do it. "I think that's mostly a matter of attitude, Rodney. I'm not sure how you can _teach_ that."  
  
  
"Well, it _has_ to be a matter of attitude," Rodney frowned, "because really, taken point by point on an individual basis, you really shouldn't be all that hot. But I figure since you taught me how to shoot a weapon and how to fly a jumper, it can't really be all that hard, right?"  
  
  
John blinked at Rodney for a moment, trying to process what he'd just said and unhooked his ankles and heaved himself to his feet with a sigh. He reached down, holding a hand out to Rodney.  
  
  
"Where are we going?" Rodney asked as he let himself be hauled up.  
  
  
"I need something stronger than beer," John said, turning back towards the doors without waiting to see if Rodney was following.  
  
  
Unfortunately, he did. And by the time Rodney had come into John's quarters behind him, John could feel the excitement rolling off of him in palpable waves.  
  
  
"Okay, so let's do this," Rodney said, snapping his fingers and pumping his fists together simultaneously. John felt a momentary pulsing heat in his cock and quickly turned away towards the fridge. Replacing what was left of the beer; he pulled out one of Radek's home-distilled bottles of vodka and fished around for the shot glasses. He poured himself a neat glass and took it in an abrupt swallow.  
  
  
"That vodka is purple," Rodney said suspiciously as John poured him a shot.  
  
  
"Tormack," John said briefly, noting the gleeful expression that shot over Rodney's face at the words.  
  
  
He still drank from the glass cautiously. "Smooth," he said in surprised delight.  
  
  
John wanted very badly to kiss him just then and thought perhaps it was wise to stop drinking now.  
  
  
"So where do we start?" he said with a sigh.  
  
  
"I thought we'd begin with working on my appearance. You know, a clothes-make-the-man kind of thing. And maybe you could show me how you do that sticky-uppy thing with the hair."  
  
  
John set the bottle of vodka down with a thump on the table beside the fridge. "You want me to give you a _makeover_?"   
  
  
"No! Well, yes. Okay, look. Remember Rod from the alternate universe? Well, he was me, but not me. I mean we looked the same but we didn't. And I for the life of me don't know wherein the differences lay or how to duplicate them." Rodney looked up at him very hopefully over the rim of the shot glass as he paused and then took the rest of it in a gulp.  
  
  
"You want me to do a makeover," John repeated, feeling the grin start to grow ever so slightly over his expression.  
  
  
Rodney made a face and thumped him on the arm. "Will you stop calling it that? And yes, _that's_ why I need your help."   
  
  
John walked over slowly and carefully removed Rodney's empty glass, placing it beside the other on the table. "Okay," he agreed, "but you have to place yourself under my _complete_ authority."  
  
  
Rodney rolled his eyes. "You're going to enjoy this very, very much, aren't you?"  
  
  
"Yes," John grinned back at him. "Come with me." He headed for the small bathroom, pausing to make little 'come on' gestures with his hand when Rodney failed to join him.  
  
  
Rodney huffed his way into the bathroom and then frowned at the tight spacing. "Here." John grabbed him by the arms and pushed him in front of the mirror, coming to stand behind him so that he was looking at their reflections over Rodney's shoulder. "Hair first." He reached past Rodney's shoulder and touched the controls, the mirror sliding back to reveal a row of shelves. John grabbed a small jar and the mirror slid back into place again.  
  
  
"I knew it!" Rodney crowed. "I knew your hair didn't do that naturally, no matter all your protestations to the contrary."  
  
  
"Rodney," John chuckled. "This stuff gives it some _control_. You should see it when I don't use anything at all. Here. You try it."  
  
  
John watched over his shoulder as Rodney deftly opened the jar and then plunged his fingers down deeply into the gel. "Whoa!" John reached around his waist and grabbed his wrist. "Okay, not so much. It's not lube, for crying out loud. Not only is this crap expensive, but a little goes a long way. Think of it as naquada."  
  
  
Rodney began to laugh as he tapped his fingers on the side of the jar and then scrapped off most of the remaining gel bar into the jar as well. "Naquada," he said, meeting John's eyes in the mirror, his own bright blue with merriment. "Only you."  
  
  
"No, only you." John corrected. "I have to use technical analogies with you. Alright. So you just take your fingers and..." he mimed pulling the gel through his hair in random directions.  
  
  
Rodney tried, but succeeded only in looking like a startled chick. "Here, let me," John offered, but when Rodney tried to turn to face him, John pushed him back towards the mirror. "No, you watch and learn, young Grasshopper."  
  
  
They stood this way for a few moments, John rubbing his hands all the way through Rodney's hair to collect the gel and then he began pulling at it the way he would do his own, while Rodney made faces at him in the mirror. "Okay. Not bad," he said when he was done, stepping back but resting his hands on Rodney's shoulders.  
  
  
Rodney tilted his head from side to side. "Not bad indeed. Hey. It makes me look like I have more, doesn't it?"  
  
  
"Yes, McKay." Rodney gave him a goofy smile through the mirror.  
  
  
John stepped back further, brushing his hands over Rodney's shoulders and down along his back, looking at him critically. "Okay," he said when he straightened and met Rodney's gaze in the mirror again. "Dressing when off-duty is about making the most of your assets. You've got really nice shoulders. And when you wear those t-shirts with the short sleeves, that really sets them off."  
  
  
Rodney began to beam at him.  
  
  
"Only, you're starting to look like the Hunchback of Notre Dame," John gripped him lightly by the juncture of neck and shoulder and gave him a little shake. "Too much time slumped over a keyboard. You need to do something to work the opposite set of muscles, your traps and your lats."  
  
  
"Uh-huh." Rodney crossed his eyes at him and then yelped when John squeezed harder on his shoulder.   
  
  
"See, you're all tight here. So I'm going to give you a set of exercises and you're going to go down to the weight room and do them, right?"  
  
  
Rodney sighed. "You're going to make me work out, aren't you?"  
  
  
"I'm just saying," John began, but Rodney interrupted him.   
  
  
"I know I've put on a lot of weight in the last few years. I mean seriously, if you'd known me back when I first met Sam, you'd scarcely recognize me now. But honestly, that's how I handle severe, chronic stress. I eat." Rodney poked disconsolately at his stomach.  
  
  
"Okay, for starters, I've seen pictures of you when you were younger, Jeannie, remember? And though we can't discount the effect of your pretty, pretty hair," John tried unsuccessfully to duck when Rodney swatted at him and continued half-laughing, half-serious, "there is such a thing as too skinny. Honestly, Rodney, I think you've gotten better looking with age."  
  
  
"Really?" Rodney met his eyes in the mirror with a startled expression and then suddenly got a thoughtful look on his face. "I wonder what you looked like when you were younger."  
  
  
"We're talking about your assets," John said smoothly. "Back to what looks good on you. Anything that brings out the blue in your eyes, but especially that kind of steely-color blue you science guys wear. And leather. You look really good in that leather jacket you have. You need to pay attention to what you're wearing off duty."  
  
  
"Like you and the clothes you have on now," Rodney nodded at him. "Which, to be honest, look as though someone should have given them to Goodwill but when you put them on, are suddenly..."  
  
  
"Back to you," John said a little more forcibly. "At some point we'll need to go through your closet and I can show you what I mean, but for now, remember, play up your assets and hide everything else. So for you, that means short sleeves when you can get away with it, don't tuck your shirts in, leather when appropriate, and even when it's not." He gave Rodney a quick wink in the mirror before tilting his head and looking down. "And anything that shows off your ass."  
  
  
Rodney's mouth opened and closed in the mirror several times. "Yes, McKay, one of the best asses in Atlantis and that's really saying something with Teyla and Ronon around. So you've got it, now flaunt it."  
  
  
"But _how_?" Rodney whined.  
  
  
John sighed. "We'll work on that. Trust me."  
  
  
Rodney turned back to face the mirror again. "I really do need to lose some weight. I don't get it though. I'm always running from something or scrambling to save the day. I should really be in better shape by now. And Ronon eats four times the quantity of food that I do and look at him."  
  
  
"You're in better shape than when you got here," John assured him. "I think it's what you eat more than how much. Don't get me wrong, McKay, you're like a PopTart vegetarian."  
  
  
"A what?" Rodney sounded aggrieved and incredulous together.  
  
  
"A PopTart vegetarian," John reiterated. "You almost never eat any meat or vegetables, it's always bread and crackers and tormack. Maybe you should talk to Teyla; she could help you out on that one."  
  
  
"Everything here just tastes funny," Rodney complained. "I eat what I like."  
  
  
"So learn to like other stuff," John shrugged. "If you want to get the girl, that is."   
  
  
"Right," Rodney frowned. "If I want to get the girl." His expression lightened as he faced John in the mirror again. "Thanks. You know, for helping."  
  
  
"No problem, buddy," John said, forcing a smile back at him and hoping Rodney wouldn't realize it was faked.  
  
  
****  
  
  
Rodney looked at the plate of salad in front of him and grimaced. He tried squinting a little and tilting his head to one side, but neither did much to improve the situation. Nope. Now that he'd finished his fish, no matter how he looked at it, all he was left with was still just a plate of entirely unappetizing leaves. He sighed and picked up his fork again, without much relish this time, and poked at one of the leaves suspiciously. After all, there was no such thing as being too careful – he wouldn't put it past Pegasus to have lettuce that came with deadly spines, or something equally horrifying, as if the prospect of actually eating the damn things wasn't torture enough. It was entirely probable, he thought morosely, what with the evil space-vampires and glowing squids of decidedly dubious intent. As a result, he was pretty much prepared for just about anything by now– rabid, rampaging vegetables included. Still, as John said, if he wanted to get the girl...  
  
  
Deciding that the remainder of his lunch probably wasn't still conscious, Rodney gave in to the inevitable and took a bite. It wasn't actually as bad as he had been anticipating he thought as he chewed cautiously. The leaves didn't really taste of much at all – they were more of a crunch and a cold, crisp texture than any actual flavor, unpleasant or otherwise. Okay, so maybe he _could_ do this; true, it might be more difficult when one of his particular favorite dishes was on offer; mashed tormack or scalloped not-potatoes for example, but when it was only cravan grain, it wasn't really all that hard to pass on the carbohydrate. He'd never really acquired a taste for cravan – the small, round grains were too much like semolina in consistency for his liking. And he'd not been able to eat semolina since the unfortunate summer when, at the tender age of nine, his parents had sent him to summer camp under the mistaken impression that the outdoors would actually be good for him. Rodney shuddered at the rather unpleasant memory of his fellow Eager Beavers and hastily took another bite of leaf to distract himself.  
  
  
Still, it turned out that he wasn't really all that allergic to being outside – at least not when there was the promise of ground-breaking physics to be uncovered and when he had John, Ronon and Teyla at his side, all appropriately armed of course. But then again, perhaps he was doing himself a disservice as John's words of last night came back to him; ' _you're in better shape than when you got here_ '. That much was certainly true; after all, it wasn't as if he could have just popped down to the gym or even, god forbid, gone for a run in either of his last postings. No, neither a year spent working on delicate and complex of processes involved in creating refined naquada in northern Russia, nor the subsequent nine months spent cooped up in an underground Ancient facility beneath several hundred meters of snow and ice, were exactly conducive to maintaining one's youthful figure. Yet, here he was, over four years later – conducting research on the very forefront of modern physics, exploring strange new worlds and fighting inter-galactic wars. So, yeah, he couldn't really be in _that_ bad a shape.  
  
  
Although it was true that when it was Rodney's turn to save the day, something that was pretty much a weekly occurrence on Atlantis, he _usually_ did it with his brain rather than his brawn, it was by no means always the case. There was just something about Atlantis and his fellow expedition members that made Rodney strive to be more than what he had always believed himself to be. He'd long ago reconciled himself to being the geek rather than the football hero, having neither the inclination nor the natural talent for most sports. And truth be told, he was actually at peace with this fact – relished it even, especially as he realized that his intellect alone could take him places of which his peers could not even dream. Even his current off-duty project – some calculations to improve the fuel-efficiency and engine power output of the puddlejumpers (John's request, of course) – involved the use of theories beyond the comprehension of the vast majority of scientists on Earth.  
  
  
Working with the SGC had changed everything. From his time spent working as a private consultant for the US military, the only people he'd met were either contract scientists like himself, all of whom were considerably less talented, or entirely uninspired military types, none of whom understood the intricacies of his work – people far better suited to the battlefield than to the lab. It wasn't until his first stint at Cheyenne mountain that he realized that there were people who could do both. In Samantha Carter, he found someone who not only was at the very top of her field, but who also was a respected officer serving active duty. Such a thing would not normally have bothered him except for the fact that even though _his_ math was correct, it was _her_ unproven hypothesis that had saved the day – and all because she was trusted by her military superiors by merit of her rank and because her field service granted her a practical insight that Rodney, for all his theoretical ingenuity, could never hope to match, let alone surpass.  
  
  
Until Atlantis.  
  
  
Here, with the help of John Sheppard, he was finally given the opportunity to really live his science – to actually _see_ it in action and feels its true power. On Atlantis he was not just a genius astrophysicist producing endless theories in a lab, the results of which he never got a chance to appreciate. No, here he was also an indispensible member of the expedition's premier off-world team – hand-picked by the military commander himself. Looking back, Rodney realized that even from the very early days of the expedition, he had found himself using more than just his intelligence to prevent the destruction of the City. He's still not entirely sure what had possessed him to walk into the centre of the dark energy creature with only the fragile protection of the personal shield, but he'd done it with hardly a second thought. And the exact same thing, whatever it was, had him facing up to the super-Wraith with nothing more than his handgun just a few short weeks later. It all stemmed, he supposed, from a desire to be worthy of this place and these people. Over the years, Atlantis had become his home and his team, his family. If the previous four plus years were not enough to convince him of this fact, then the knowledge of just how much his team were willing to risk his behalf - carrying his mentally incapacitated body deep into Wraith territory guided by no more than folklore and hearsay - was more than enough for Rodney to accept the fact that he was loved.   
  
  
An image of John's smile flashed briefly before his eyes at the thought and Rodney smiled. John – his friend, his _best_ friend; the one on whom he knew he could always count. Which was why, of course, he was here, stolidly working his way through a plate of decidedly unpalatable leaves and trying to work up the mental strength to face a trip to the gym later that afternoon. Now, although he may not always think all that highly of John Sheppard's plans in general – the man was a bit too fond of daredevil heroics and had far too many suicidal tendencies for Rodney's peace of mind – Rodney did have to admit that in this particular area, John's level of expertise far outstripped his own. Rodney was man enough to admit it when he needed help, and this was definitely one of those very rare times.   
  
  
In this particular scenario, Rodney knew he required outside assistance. And, no doubt about it, John was the best man for the job. Not only was he Rodney's best friend, he was also the very embodiment of the particular skill Rodney had concluded he needed to master. Even Rodney, with his usual lack of interest in anything personal, could not fail to notice John's charms. It had actually become rather a sore point between them over the years. Thinking back, Rodney could remember vividly the first time he'd felt what must surely be jealousy at the careless ease with which John attracted romantic interest. Of course, the man's seemingly magnetic charm had its good points – gaining Teyla's trust despite Sumner's suspicions chief amongst them – however there were plenty of instances when it had led to nothing by trouble. The incident with Chaya being a prime example. And, recently, Rodney definitely had his suspicions about that woman who kept kidnapping John. What was her name again? Lara? Not that there hadn't been plenty of other women who were interested in John – of that Rodney was sure.   
  
  
Rodney shook his head, at a loss to understand why John was so often on his own when the man demonstrably had no shortage of offers. Even during Rodney's own long-winded and rather torturous affair with Katie, John had remained single. Not only that, but John had also seemed happy to spend time with Rodney whenever the various intricacies involved in a long-term relationship became too much for him. It had meant a great deal to Rodney to know that John was always there for him, no matter what else was going on in his life. True there had been a tense couple of weeks in the aftermath of the Doranda mission when Rodney feared he may have pushed John too far. Even now it chilled him to think that he might have lost John's friendship for good - something which frightened him far more than the initial worries he'd experienced in the early days of his courtship of Katie. To Rodney's enormous relief it hadn't come to that. John _had_ been distant and cold in his dealings with Rodney for the first few weeks, and Rodney had been distraught as a result – desperate for the chance to prove to John that he was worthy of his trust. To have John's life placed in serious jeopardy by Carson's experimental retro-virus so soon afterwards had only made things worse. It had reinforced to Rodney just how fragile life was, especially in Pegasus. The very real chance of losing John permanently before they had managed to resolve their differences had prompted Rodney to turn up at John's quarters once he'd completed his de-bugification with one of the last remaining bottles of whiskey. After Rodney's first few incredibly painful attempts at apologizing, John had finally taken pity on him – grabbing the other end of the bottle and using it to drag him down to the pier where they'd proceeded avoid talking about anything even remotely serious while they got absolutely rat-assed. Since then it had become something of a ritual – John and Rodney sitting comfortably side by side on the edge of the west pier, drinking whatever alcohol was handy and staring out into the dark alien night.  
  
  
Rodney'd had a moment of concern last night when he'd arrived at John's quarters to find him freshly showered, shaved and dressed in civvies. For a moment he wondered whether the friendship on which he'd come to rely was going to change by the addition of a third party, but John had been quick to reassure him that he wasn't heading out on a date. Rodney had felt immediate relief on hearing that - obviously glad that he could spend the evening with his friend. Actually, Rodney was fairly certain that John hadn't formed a serious relationship with anyone at all over the course of the expedition. Even after having spent six months trapped in the time dilation field with Teer, John seemed more than relieved when he'd been rescued – refusing, much to Rodney's relief, the promise of ascension Teer offered.   
  
  
All of which brought Rodney back to his present situation. Grimacing at that last thought, Rodney forced himself to take another bite of his salad. He wasn't sure how much more of this he was going to be able to take. But, then again, if he was serious about Keller – or rather, as John had reminded him last night, _Jennifer_ – then he needed to at least give it a go. Besides which, no doubt John would get all dopey-eyed and pouty if he found out that Rodney had given up with his plan already. Rodney snorted to himself and wondered for the umpteenth time how John could go from a hard-ass Colonel one minute to looking like a pouting little boy the next. So, no, giving up now simply wasn't an option.  
  
  
Rodney wasn't entirely sure what exactly had led him to conclude that he was in love with Jennifer. But, although it wasn't usual style of operation, it was an opportunity he was determined to pursue. It had taken Cadman's constant meddling to get him to ask Katie out and, regardless of how that affair had ended, he had learned his lesson – if he wanted something more with someone, then he had to make an effort to connect with the person in question. His relationship with Katie had failed because they simply weren't right for each other. Perhaps it was a symptom of how their relationship had started – with Cadman more or less taking total control of Rodney's body in the wooing of her – but Rodney had never been able to relax and be himself entirely in Katie's presence. What had taken place during his ultimately ill-fated proposal had only highlighted just how wrong they were for each other and Rodney had found that he'd mourned the idea of Katie rather than the woman herself.   
  
  
But his relationship with Keller _dammit!_ – Jennifer - was completely different. She'd seen more of who Rodney really was in the months they'd known each other than Katie had in the years they'd been together. He felt like they'd had time to forge some sort of friendship before he'd ever considered her as a potential romantic partner. He'd been surprised, truth be told, by her suggestion that they meet for a drink after their escape from the Genii mine, but he wasn't one to pass up the opportunity to spend some time alone with a beautiful woman. They'd spent a pleasant hour together before his job had called him back – that time in the shape of John needing Rodney to look at some odd responses he'd been getting from one of the jumpers. Since then, Rodney had begun to wonder whether things with Jennifer could go better than they had with Katie – his sister's comment about him running out of time still wearing heavily on his mind. It was true, he knew, especially so in Pegasus where his life expectancy was considerably lower than were he to have remained on Earth.   
  
  
Pushing away his somewhat maudlin thoughts away with a sigh, Rodney turned his attention back to his plate. The leaves were still there. Waiting for him. He sighed again and twisted his shoulders uncomfortably, the new short-sleeved shirt he'd worn in deference to John's suggestion irritating him slightly. He forced himself to take another bite and then rewarded himself by flicking on his PDA. Over the years he'd more or less managed to break himself of the habit of working through his mealtimes when he was in the commissary. If he was embroiled in a particularly important project he tended not to leave his lab, preferring instead to grab a sandwich and a couple of powerbars whilst hunched over the computer terminal on his desk. Of course, now that sandwiches and powerbars were firmly off the menu, he'd had to resort to the offerings of the commissary, even though he was far later than he intended to be as he'd been loathe to leave his jumper engine simulation until it was ready to run. As a result, the commissary was almost empty and Rodney was seated alone at his table in one of the far corners. He debated taking another mouthful of leaves, but temptation won out and he started scrolling through his notes instead.  
  
  
He was just getting into the first stages of assessing his latest approximations when a felt the weight of someone's gaze on him. Raising his head, he found Teyla looking down at his half-finished lunch with a surprised smile on her face.   
  
  
"I see our lunch choices coincide today, Rodney," she said as she took the seat opposite him.   
  
  
Rodney glanced at her plate briefly, recognizing the leaves, and then up to her face. "You're here late," he commented. "I thought everyone had already eaten."  
  
  
Teyla sighed. "Torren had a difficult night and so I have been running a bit behind schedule all day," she confessed, the slight bruises under her eyes testament of a night spent comforting her young child. She then looked back down at Rodney's plate. "Perhaps you would like a cup of my relia tea to accompany your meal?" she suggested. "I have always found that the taste to bring out the flavor of the lelia leaves."  
  
  
"Oh? Well, I suppose as I've come this far, I might as well," Rodney said, holding out his cup to allow Teyla to pour him some of the tea from her freshly brewed pot. It was a pale yellow color and smelled a bit like parsley. "It isn't citrus-based, is it?" he asked as he peered down into the steaming liquid.  
  
  
"Of course not, Rodney," Teyla replied, giving him a stern look. "I do know better – as you well know."  
  
  
"Yes; I... ah... sorry," Rodney said at once, feeling embarrassed for having questioned Teyla, especially after all the care his teammates had given him just a few short weeks ago – risking their lives for the chance to spend one last day with him. "I do know that – it's just... well, habit, I guess. Especially with... you know... new food." He gestured to both his plate and mug as he spoke.  
  
  
Teyla smiled and nodded in understanding. She started to eat her own plate of salad and fish, motioning with her fork for Rodney to do likewise. He took another bite of salad, chewing and swallowing quickly while wishing that he had something with a bit more taste and substance to eat. Why exactly was he doing this again? Oh, yes, the girl.  
  
  
"Take a sip of the tea," Teyla suggested, obviously noticing the look of distaste on his face.  
  
  
Nodding, Rodney did so and found that the subtle flavors of the liquid did indeed enhance the taste of his lunch. "You're right," he said. "That's a lot better – not actually good, mind you, but definitely an improvement."  
  
  
Teyla inspected is plate again and then frowned. "You should really have some protein with the lelia," she said. "Some of the fish, perhaps."  
  
  
"Yes, I know, I did," he confessed. "I ate it first."  
  
  
"Ah," Teyla said, the amusement evident in her tone. "So, tell me, what is the motive behind this new approach to food, Rodney?" she asked.  
  
  
Rodney scowled at her in attempt to dissuade her from pursuing the subject.  
  
  
"And your clothes?" she added, patently ignoring his expression.  
  
  
Rodney gave it up as a lost cause – Teyla knew him far too well, he decided. "John's idea," he muttered, hoping against hope that she'd just drop it.  
  
  
He should have known better.  
  
  
"Ah," she said again, sounding even more amused, were such a thing possible. "Your efforts are for John then." Much to Rodney's mystification, she sounded oddly excited by the prospect.  
  
  
"No," Rodney replied slowly. "It's... um... for... Jennifer, actually."  
  
  
Teyla frowned slightly at that, and Rodney experienced a moment's confusion because, of anyone, Teyla was the one person he'd expected to already be aware of his interest in Jennifer. However, after a moment Teyla's face cleared and she looked up at Rodney with re-newed interest. "You believe you are interested in Jennifer?" she asked softly.  
  
  
"I... well, yes," Rodney replied, feeling his face heat up at the confession. "I mean, she's hot and smart and blonde – kind of – why wouldn't I be interested in her? Plus," he added as an after-thought, "she's interested in me."  
  
  
"I see," Teyla replied. "She does care for you, Rodney, that much is clear."  
  
  
Rodney nodded, pleased that Teyla had noticed it. "But I am sure you need not alter your behavior to any great extent in order to attract her attention – you should just be yourself."  
  
  
Rodney manfully refrained from rolling his eyes. He was still trying to work out how exactly to suggest to Teyla that she mind her own business, without risking both life and limb, when he was rescued by the appearance of the subject of their conversation, cup of coffee and a muffin in hand   
  
  
"Jennifer!" he said, half pleased and half panicked. He took a deep breath – there was no need to be nervous – after all, that had been a large part of his problem with Katie. "What are you doing here?" he proceeded to blurt out before his brain could stop his mouth.  
  
  
"Will you join us?" Teyla asked quickly, shooting Rodney a look that seemed to say 'relax and be yourself.'  
  
  
Rodney took a deep breath, relieved when Jennifer smiled brightly at him as she took the seat next to Teyla and started unpeeling her muffin. At first he was distracted by the temptation of both the food and the coffee, and then found himself freezing as Jennifer looked up at him expectantly. He realized in horror that he was at a total loss of what to say. It was awful; exactly like what used to happen with Katie...  
  
  
Out of the corner of his eye, Rodney saw John slink into the room – a long lean line of swaggering black. He sighed internally, knowing that he'd never be able to achieve the almost effortless grace that positively oozed out of John's very pores. John wouldn't be having these problems, he thought to himself miserably. John would know exactly what to say to Jennifer.   
  
  
John appeared to be heading for the coffee, a travel mug in hand as if he wasn't going to be staying. However, as if feeling the weight of Rodney's gaze, he suddenly swung his head round towards their table, his eyes lighting when he settled his gaze on Rodney. Rodney felt an odd twinge in his stomach and cursed the damn lel... whatever-the-hell-they-were-called leaves.   
  
  
Instead of filling his travel mug and heading back out the door, John changed direction and came over to their table. "Hey, guys," he greeted them all as he took the seat next to Rodney. "So, Rodney," John said casually, turning his head to glance over at Rodney. "You been able to fix my jumpers yet?"  
  
  
Rodney snorted. "There's nothing wrong with your jumpers, as you well know," he replied. "They are all operating well within spec."  
  
  
"Yeah, _Ancien_ t spec," John teased. "Surely _you_ can do better than that."  
  
  
Rodney couldn't help preening a little under John's praise. Even though he knew he was being manipulated, he never seemed to mind when it was John doing the manipulating. "Well," he admitted, "I may have had one or two ideas about improving their performance."  
  
  
"Yes!" John crowed. "I knew it; so, you gonna make 'em go faster?"  
  
  
Rodney rolled his eyes in an attempt to hide that he was actually amused by John's boundless enthusiasm for speed. "Perhaps," he prevaricated.  
  
  
"Rawdney," John whined.  
  
  
"Alright, alright," he said. "There's no need to pout; of course, I'm going to make them go faster!"  
  
  
John grinned at him, even his hair seemed to have perked up at Rodney's pronouncement. "So, when do I get a test drive?"  
  
  
"No time soon," Rodney snapped. "I've only just started looking into the issue – we've been just a tad busy around here of late!"  
  
  
"Oh, really?" John drawled. "I hadn't noticed."  
  
  
Rodney ignored him in favor of turning back to his data pad. "I think there's too much turbulence in the fuel chambers," he mused to himself, taking a sip of tea and wishing it was coffee. "The joys of non-linear dynamics."  
  
  
"Cool!" was John's response. "Chaos theory, then?" he asked as if delighted by the prospect.  
  
  
Rodney beamed at him. "Yes; exactly," he replied with pleasure.  
  
  
"Oh, I remember that!" Jennifer interjected. "Something like when a butterfly flaps its wings in Japan it causes a hurricane to form in the Caribbean."  
  
  
There was just no way that Rodney could hide his wince at that. "No," he said, aware that his voice was probably wavering ever so slightly at what he instinctively knew was the complete misunderstanding of the statement. "No... just... no." It didn't seem like he could get out anything more than that.  
  
  
"Breathe, buddy," John said to him in an undertone, leaning over to gently brush Rodney's shoulder with his own.  
  
  
Good advice, Rodney thought. He inhaled deeply and found he did feel better. Somewhat, at any rate.   
  
  
"Oh," Jennifer said, quirking a quick smile in Rodney's direction. "So, I take it it's a good thing I'm a medical doctor and not a physicist, huh?" she joked.  
  
  
Hell yes, Rodney thought, but somehow managed to restrain himself from giving his thoughts voice. However, judging from John's smirk, he wasn't entirely successful in keeping them off his face. "I... ah... It's a fairly common misunderstanding," he said, hoping to dispel some of the damage his automatic outburst may have caused.   
  
  
"Butterfly?" Teyla asked with a confused look on her face. "I had thought that a butterfly was an Earth insect, what has it to do with the puddlejumpers?"  
  
  
"Nothing," Rodney snapped in exasperation. "Absolutely nothing."  
  
  
John laughed and Rodney was tempted to hit him. Hard. Ray Bradbury had a lot to answer for...  
  
  
"It's an analogy," John said, when he'd calmed sufficiently. "Except people tend to get it wrong."  
  
  
Rodney rolled his eyes. "That's why people should either do the math or live in ignorance – analogies in physics get you nowhere."  
  
  
John raised an eyebrow at that remark and Rodney felt himself flush a little for reasons he didn't quite understand.  
  
  
"Oh, alright," he acknowledged with a sigh. "Maybe analogies do help. Sometimes. In certain situations. But only when being described by experts. And not in relation to chaos theory."   
  
  
"So no butterfly?" Jennifer asked.  
  
  
"No." Rodney said. "Well, actually, yes and no," he then quickly amended. "See, chaos theory deals with classical systems – those which can be described using equations of motion as described by Newton's laws. Now, some classical systems aren't chaotic; a simple pendulum for example," he said, picking up his fork between his thumb and forefinger and letting it swing backwards and forwards a few times in illustration. "In this case," he said gesturing towards his make-shift pendulum with his free hand, "you can work out the angle of swing as a function of time." He returned the fork to his plate as he continued, "However, for the vast majority of real, physically interesting systems-"  
  
  
"Like my jumper engines," John interjected quickly.  
  
  
"Yes," Rodney replied patiently. "Like your jumper engines. For these systems, the equations are just too complicated to be solved – some of them may even intrinsically unsolvable."  
  
  
"So you ask a butterfly," John interrupted again.  
  
  
"Yes, you – what?! No! No you do not!" Rodney yelled at him as Teyla and Jennifer laughed.  
  
  
"I know, I know," John said, flinging an arm about Rodney's shoulders and patting him in a placating manner. "It's okay – I really do know; you use numerical approximations – divide your system into discreet segments and then solve the equations of motion segment by segment."   
  
  
"And?" Rodney prompted, determined to get his revenge. "Carry on, Colonel – you were doing _tolerably_ well. Don't think you can make fun of the physics and then be spared the pain of having to reveal your inner geek. What's the down side of this approach?"  
  
  
John merely grinned at him, removing his arm and sitting forward in his chair. "Well, the problem is that there is necessarily some... well... some _approximation_ involved - because your segments aren't infinitesimally small, your answers are never going to be entirely correct."  
  
  
"Very good," Rodney said. "So, you see," he said, turning back to Jennifer and Teyla. "One way to test the suitability of your approximation is to slightly change your initial conditions and then re-run your calculations. One of the hallmarks of a chaotic system is that although the trajectories of the two slightly different starting points may initially be very close together, they will nevertheless diverge very quickly. This makes long-term predictability essentially useless, because you need a huge increase in the accuracy of your initial conditions for a very small increase in the length of time for which your solution is valid."   
  
  
"And the butterfly?" Teyla prompted.  
  
  
Rodney rolled his eyes. "Yes, yes, I'm getting there," he huffed. "Now, take the weather," he said. "The weather is a chaotic system; it's very hard to make long-term predictions. And this is where the butterfly comes in - the difference between there being a storm in a month's time and there not being a storm, might be as small as the difference between, say, a butterfly flapping its wings in Japan versus it not flapping its wings."  
  
  
"So, the storm is being caused by the butterfly, isn't it?" Jenifer asked with a frown. "At least in part."  
  
  
"No – because the _exact opposite_ could be the case as well," Rodney explained. "The butterfly _not_ flapping its wings could be the initial conditions required for the storm to occur. You see, the system is still _entirely_ deterministic in the sense that you have your equations and, in principle, if you specify your initial conditions to arbitrary accuracy then you can have a solution that makes sense for an arbitrarily long period of time. The problem is that you simply _can't_ specify your initial conditions that precisely."  
  
  
"Because who'd take account of the butterfly?" John added.  
  
  
"Yes, exactly," Rodney said. "You simply can't get anything like the accuracy you need. So, for all practical purposes the system, whilst being deterministic, is nevertheless _not_ predictive over large time periods – it's therefore a _chaotic_ system." Rodney finished his exposition and glanced round the table. John was grinning at him is such a way that clearly revealed his not so inner geek, but both Teyla and Jennifer looked a little dazed and ever so slightly glazed.  
  
  
"I think I see," Jennifer said at last. "Well, I guess I'll hope that the butterflies don't start their flapping until you've finished working on the jumper engines," she said with a smile. "Anyway," she continued, rising to her feet. "I'm afraid that I have to get back to work."  
  
  
"Oh," Rodney said. "Well... okay... see you later?"  
  
  
To his relief, Jennifer smiled at him. "Of course, Rodney," she said as she headed out of the commissary.  
  
  
"Bye," said John to her departing back, sounding far too cheery for Rodney's liking.  
  
  
"I should be going as well," Teyla said. "John, Rodney, I will see you both this evening."  
  
  
"Hey!" Rodney complained once they were on their own, reaching out to thwack John on the shoulder. "You're supposed to be helping me with Jennifer, not encouraging me to bore her to death and then merrily waving her off."  
  
  
John shrugged. "Relax, Rodney," he said. "It went fine – trust me. You're a smart guy; you shouldn't underestimate how attractive that is."  
  
  
"Yes, well, I've never found it to be particularly effective," Rodney muttered darkly in reply.  
  
  
"Well, I'm the expert, remember? And I say it is," John said, sounding so utterly sincere that Rodney found he had no choice but to believe him. "If you want me to help you, Rodney, you've got to trust what I say. So, stop grouching and come on – we've got work to do."   
  
  
John rose to his feet as he spoke and reached out to wrap his hand around Rodney's exposed bicep, tugging on him a little to get him to do likewise. The firm touch of John's fingers around his arm seemed to incite another odd swirl of feeling in Rodney's stomach and he decided to avoid that weird lettuce again in future. It obviously disagreed with him.   
  
  
"How do you know so much about chaos theory anyway?" Rodney asked with a frown as he and John made their way towards the exit together.  
  
  
John pointed to his head, "Rodney-compiler, remember?"  
  
  
Rodney snorted. "Yeah, well, it's not available as open source anywhere is it?" he asked.  
  
  
John just laughed. "Special order only, I'm afraid," he replied. "Come on, I believe you've got a date with the gym."  
  
  
****  
  
  
John caught himself hurrying down the hallway towards Rodney's quarters and forced himself to slow down. That last minute business with Lorne hadn't taken all _that_ long and it wasn't like Rodney was actually expecting him. Okay, so he was already looking forward to the time he planned to spend with Rodney tonight. No big deal. He glanced down at his own clothing as he reached Rodney's door. He was wearing the white cotton shirt (finally laundered but damn it, he wasn't about to iron _casual_ clothing) and the blue jeans as before, over his battered brown hiking boots. Tonight wasn't about him. The temptation had been there, as he was changing clothes, to slip into the much tighter black jeans instead, wanting to look good, wanting to catch Rodney's eye. He'd settled on a more understated look instead.  
  
  
He wondered as he hesitated in front of Rodney's door if he'd be successful in the plan that he had for the evening. If so, he'd have convinced Rodney to let him select what to wear, and that possibly meant that Rodney would change in front of him. He recalled how Rodney had initially been painfully embarrassed at changing into field gear in front of the rest of the guys, only gradually becoming comfortable with the idea. John suspected that high school gym class had been hell for Rodney. As he waved a hand over the door chime, he suddenly pictured Rodney standing with his back turned, pulling off his shirt over his head, exposing those smooth, pale shoulders. He saw himself, reaching forward to trace the waistband of Rodney's pants, hooking a finger inside, tugging him closer...he leaned one hand onto the door frame and closed his eyes, giving in to the imagery for a moment.  
  
  
That might be why his voice was a bit husky when the door opened and he said to Rodney, "So, ready for your next lesson?"  
  
  
Rodney gaped at him for a second, his glance flicking up and down at John. After a beat, Rodney sighed, shoulders slumping as he took a step back and let John enter the room. "It's not going to require more physical abuse and personal deprivation on my part, is it?"  
  
  
John uncoiled himself from the doorway and strolled into the room, heading straight for the closet without looking at Rodney. For a moment he was tempted to answer, ' _yeah, today you need to give up coffee forever_ ', just to see what kind of reaction he would get. It wasn't the first time it had occurred to him that he could easily make his 'lessons' such a pain in the ass that Rodney would just give up on the idea altogether. But that was not likely to stop Jennifer from noticing how attractive he was. Besides, if this is what Rodney wanted, well, he deserved to _get_ what he wanted. John was determined to show Rodney off at his best. "Aw, c'mon Rodney. Faint heart never won fair lady."  
  
  
"That's a quote, isn't it? You're quoting something, right? What is it, Shakespeare?"  
  
  
John paused as he opened the closet, glancing back over his shoulder. "Sorry, I don't know where I heard that one before; I just remembered it, that's all."   
  
  
Rodney made the noise best described as 'argh'. "That's going to drive me nuts now. It's a movie quote, right?"  
  
  
John shrugged helplessly. "I don't know, Rodney, seriously." He turned back to the closet and began shifting clothing on its hangers.  
  
  
"What are we doing?" Rodney said; unexpectedly close behind John's shoulder, his voice an odd mix of wariness and curiosity.   
  
  
"Time for the next lesson in how to dress. I told you we'd have to go through your closet, remember?" John glanced back at him briefly. "Looks like you got the hair thing down pat."  
  
  
Rodney beamed at him. "Yeah, there was a little gel wastage at first and I had to wash it out and try again a few times until I got the hang of it, but it's not bad, is it? It's easier when it's wet too." His fingers made plucking motions at the fringe of hair over his forehead.  
  
  
John couldn't help but smile. He knew that Rodney would have a light touch once he figured out what he was supposed to do. His brain automatically supplied the image of Rodney's fingers sliding over his wet, bare skin and he suppressed a little shiver.  
  
  
" _Much Ado about Nothing_ ," Rodney said suddenly, snapping his fingers.  
  
  
"What?" John raised an eyebrow. He had no idea where Rodney had leapt to in the conversation.  
  
  
"The quote, the quote," Rodney said impatiently. "I know, I'll do a quotations search." He moved quickly over to the laptop on his bedside table, waking it up out of sleep mode and typing rapidly.  
  
  
"Let it go, McKay."  
  
  
"This is will just take a minute...huh." Rodney stared at the screen, thoughtfully thumbing his lower lip. John didn't think it should look so hot, but it did. "That's odd. Nothing came up on the search."  
  
  
"So I probably made it up. Get your ass over here." John jerked his head towards the closet.  
  
  
"You didn't make that up. Because a) it doesn't sound like you and b) it _sounds_ like a quote." Rodney seemed loathe to leave his laptop but he closed it and moved over to the closet with a sigh.  
  
  
" _Focus_ , Rodney," John said with a grin and watched as a myriad of emotions crossed Rodney's face. He realized belatedly that he'd reminded Rodney of Elizabeth when he saw the flicker of sadness cross Rodney's features and he felt an answering sorrow and regret as well. For Elizabeth, but also for the strain that her loss had put on his relationship with Rodney at the time. To redirect Rodney's mind, as well as his own, he said, "Carter would've said ' _McKay_ ', in that exasperated sort of way. What does Woolsey say to you?"  
  
  
Rodney rolled his eyes. "Woolsey goes into a long-winded explanation of why it would be better for all concerned if I should stay on task. Usually with a tie-in story about the Yorkie."  
  
  
John snorted and both of them snickered briefly. There was something inherently amusing about the fact that such a fussy bureaucrat had been besotted with a tiny dog.   
  
  
John turned back to task and began going through Rodney's closet once more. "Okay, the science uniforms are a given, but if you have a choice, still go with the short sleeves. The dark gray jacket and tee-shirts are okay, but the leather jacket and the black tee really work for you."  
  
  
"You're just saying that because they're black," Rodney snorted. "I'm beginning to think black is the secret to your color coordination efforts."  
  
  
John made the ' _ha-ha, funny_ ' face at him. "I'm lucky in that my working uniform comes in black. But black happens to work for me, so I wear it a lot anyway."  
  
  
Rodney shot him a thoughtful look. "That's true; it is a good look on you. But then it makes it all the more noticeable when you wear something with some color to it."  
  
  
John hoped that the flush he felt wasn't apparent. He simply nodded. "Right. So I make sparing use of casual clothing and color unless I want to be noticed."  
  
  
Rodney opened his mouth as though he were going to ask John something else along those lines, but John quickly moved on. "Let's see what you've got here." He grasped a double handful of clothing on hangers and removed it from the closet, carrying it over to the bed to dump it on the bedspread.  
  
  
"How come you never wear this stuff?" John asked curiously, sorting the clothing into piles of ' _decent_ ', ' _has potential_ ' and ' _no way in hell_ '.   
  
  
"Who has the time?" Rodney frowned. "I'm on duty most of the time anyway. It hardly seems worth it to come back to my quarters and change just so I can pick up a late dinner in the mess."  
  
  
John nodded in agreement; he had the same problem. "I hear ya, buddy. Still, a change to casual clothing makes you more approachable, see? And like you said about me, if everyone is used to seeing you in your usual work clothes all the time, the sight of you in different clothing will definitely catch the eye. And that's what you're trying to do right now, okay?"   
  
  
He picked up a cotton shirt, the material slightly shiny in appearance, patterned in thin blue and green vertical stripes. He held it up against Rodney's chest. "This is pretty cool."  
  
  
Rodney made a face. "Jeannie gave me that for Christmas."  
  
  
"Let me guess, you've never worn it. Your sister might be screwy on some points, but I'd trust her taste in clothing, McKay."  
  
  
"It's _stripes_ , Sheppard," Rodney groused.  
  
  
John chuckled, pressing the shirt on its hanger into Rodney's chest. "Put it on. Here," he thrust a pair of jeans at Rodney as well. "These too."  
  
  
Rodney made another face and closed his arms on the bundle of clothing, heading into the bathroom to change. John quashed a moment of disappointment before reminding himself severely that it was just as well.  
  
  
After a few minutes, Rodney padded out into the main room in his sock feet, looking mildly embarrassed as he raised his arms, flipped his hands out with a flourish and rotated so John could get the full view.  
  
  
"Not bad, not bad," John spoke as though it were a concession, when what he really wanted to do was give a little wolf-whistle.  
  
  
"You really think so?" Rodney sounded doubtful, smoothing down the slick material of the shirt over his chest.  
  
  
"It looks good on you." John moved over to him and folded the long sleeves back at the cuffs, not quite rolling them up, just enough to expose Rodney's wrists. "C'mon, grab your shoes. We're headed down to the mixer."  
  
  
The 'mixer' was something that had sprung up soon after the expedition had settled into life in Pegasus. John had long suspected it of being the brain-child of some former cheerleader and had opted out after making an appearance for the sake of morale after the first one or two times. At the end of every 'week', an informal gathering of people took place in the mess. Most of the time there was music; either live or recorded, quite often there was alcohol. It was a way for people to unwind after a hard week, and, once the expedition was back in contact with Earth again, meet new people.  
  
  
A pained expression crossed Rodney's face. "Um, John? I don't do the social thing. It's not that I don't want to go, though really, I don't, but, well, you know, most of my staff go there to gripe about _me_ , okay? I really don't want to rain on their little parades in their off time."  
  
  
"Which is why your appearance there will turn heads," John said knowingly. He could tell from Rodney's expression he'd won the argument. "C'mon, buddy," he said, clapping Rodney lightly on the shoulder. "It'll be fine."  
  
  
Rodney heaved a sigh, dramatically lifting his shoulders and letting them fall. "Fine. Ok. Right. Just hang on a minute while I shave."  
  
  
John reached out and snagged him by the arm as he turned to go back in the bathroom. "No!"   
  
  
Rodney gave him a curious look and glanced down at the grip John had on his bicep. John released him quickly and manfully refrained from reaching up to rub the back of his own neck.  
  
  
"No shaving. It would spoil the look we're going for tonight."  
  
  
Rodney rolled his eyes and then moved over to sit on the edge of the bed while he put on his track shoes. "Would you mind explaining that?"  
  
  
"The look you're going for tonight is off-duty scientist. Casual-scruffy. Very hot, by the way. So no shaving before you go out. Are those your only shoes?"  
  
  
Rodney finished lacing his shoes and looked up with frown, resting his hands on his thighs. "Aside from combat boots or formal wear, yes, so deal with it. But the other night, when I stopped by your place, you were wearing causal clothing and you had shaved."  
  
  
This time John did rub the back of his neck, but he figured he could get away with it now. "Well, that was different. I...uh, well, you know me. I could stand to shave _three_ times a day if it came to that."  
  
  
Rodney's eyes narrowed as though he didn't quite believe John and then he sighed again. "Is there some sort of rule book for these things? Because I swear, none of this makes any sense."  
  
  
John held out a hand and Rodney grasped it, allowing himself to be hauled to his feet. "The same old rules apply for the most part, McKay. Shave in the morning. Shave if you feel like it when you're off duty or on vacation..."  
  
  
" _Vacation_?" Rodney interrupted as they headed out the door. "What the hell is that?"  
  
  
John had a sudden mental flash of Rodney wearing a loud print shirt over clamdiggers, a floppy brimmed hat and a swath of zinc oxide down his nose, shaking the sand out of his flip flops and complaining (only mildly) about the risk of sunburn as he climbed the stairs of a beach house where John was waiting for him. The image shifted suddenly to the two of them, wrapped around each other, dozing in a slowly swaying hammock to the sound of the ocean just beyond the deck and seagulls crying overhead. He shook off the daydreams and continued with his lecture. "Right. Anyway, you shave in the evening if you're going out on a special date," he rushed on, hoping Rodney wouldn't focus on the other night again, "a formal occasion or whatever. But don't forget the power of looking a little bit bad."  
  
  
"I can't compete with Ronon on that front," Rodney said morosely.  
  
  
John snorted inelegantly. "That's because Ronon _is_ bad. Trust me, that has marked appeal for the ladies, but only if they think they can _tame_ him. And that's usually what kills the relationship."   
  
  
They entered the transporter at the end of the corridor and John leaned with his hands behind his back against the wall. "Look, Rodney. Your selling points are the exact opposite of Ronon's, okay? He's physical, you're the brains. He's dangerous and _alien_ , you're familiar and safe. All you have to do is show that you can be a little bit bad too, and the things that make Ronon hot will seem like the things that make him a waste of time too. At least for someone looking for an actual relationship."  
  
  
The transporter doors opened and Rodney looked at John curiously as they exited. "You've really given this a lot of thought, haven't you?"  
  
  
"Mostly in self-defense," John shrugged.  
  
  
"Yeah, why is that?" Rodney said as they entered the mess. "I mean, you could have your pick..." he trailed off as he noted the reaction their presence caused. Everyone seemed to be staring at them and then began nudging one another and whispering. The music fell silent at the same time, making it seem like it was as a result of their entrance.  
  
  
Rodney leaned in to whisper in John's direction. "Wow. Are you sure about this? Maybe the shirt was a bad idea. You know, I could always go back and change..."  
  
  
John caught him by the arm as he was making a bolt for the door. "Steady on, McKay. This is a _good_ reaction, trust me."  
  
  
Rodney turned towards him, such a look of doubt and worry in his amazing blue eyes that John wanted to kiss him on the spot. Instead he forcibly pivoted Rodney back towards the room and gave him a little push.  
  
  
"Oh fuck me," Rodney said quietly.  
  
  
John's hand was still lying in the space between Rodney's shoulder blades when he spoke those words, causing John's cock to suddenly surge with interest. Biting his lip and standing behind Rodney so hopefully no one would notice, John re-adjusted himself. Glancing over Rodney's shoulder, he saw the problem.  
  
  
Cadman was making a beeline for them.  
  
  
John wanted to curse as well. He liked Cadman, he really did, but she certainly knew how to get under Rodney's skin after having literally been there before. He didn't want Rodney rattled tonight before he'd become more comfortable with his new approach to dating.  
  
  
"Rodney, Colonel," Cadman said by way of greeting, a sly smile hovering over the brim of her glass as she took a drink. "We don't see the two of you here often at the mixer."  
  
  
Rodney deftly caught her free hand and grasped her fingers lightly. "We were drawn like moths to the flame of your charismatic personality." He lifted the back of her hand to his lips as he bowed over it, brushing her hand with a kiss and glancing up at her wickedly at the same time.  
  
  
Astonishingly, Cadman blushed.  
  
  
"Ahem, yes, well." She cleared her throat as she withdrew her hand and then glanced thoughtfully with narrowed eyes over Rodney, taking in his appearance. Her gaze shot back to John's face and then suddenly shifted away. She tilted her head in the direction of several tables that had been pushed back against one wall and where clusters of people were milling about. "Zelenka's in charge of drinks as usual, and tonight Simpson is running the music. I've heard rumors there will be karaoke later."  
  
  
"Ye gods, someone shoot me before then," Rodney complained.  
  
  
Cadman's glance snapped back at Rodney and she suddenly smiled. "Now you boys enjoy yourselves," she purred suspiciously and moved off, even as Teyla and Ronon were winding their way towards them. John found himself wondering what that was all about and was secretly proud of Rodney for rattling _her_ chain, however briefly. "Nice move there, McKay."  
  
  
"Who does she think she is, Julie McCoy?" Rodney sniped.  
  
  
Fortunately the arrival of Ronon and Teyla kept the conversation from denigrating into who everyone else would be if Atlantis was the Love Boat.  
  
  
"John, Rodney," Teyla said warmly as she and Ronon joined them. "It is good to see you here."  
  
  
Ronon merely nodded in their direction.  
  
  
"Is there any food?" Rodney said hopefully and then, catching John's eye, winced and made a ' _yes, yes, I know_ ' face.   
  
  
"The usual. Chips. Those whatchamacallem's. Pretzels." Ronon looked as though he were up for more food if Rodney was headed that way.  
  
  
Rodney quivered to alertness much like a pointer scenting a bird, but then relented with a little sigh. He looked around. "Who is else is here? Anyone seen Jennifer?"  
  
  
Ronon's eyes narrowed slightly and there was the barest elevation of an eyebrow.  
  
  
"I too, am looking for Jennifer," Teyla interjected smoothly. "She said she would be along shortly, but I cannot stay much longer or I fear that Kanaan will disown me. I wish to express my gratitude to her for introducing me to such a wonderful and useful piece of technology."  
  
  
Rodney visibly perked up. "Oh really? And what would that be?"  
  
  
Teyla got quite animated. "It's called a 'breast pump.' It is really quite amazing. It allows me to prepare feedings for Torren in advance so that Kanaan can feed him when he gets hungry if I'm not there. You simply..."  
  
  
She never got to finish her sentence before Rodney clapped his hands over his ears and started singing ' _la-la-la_ ' very loudly even as John made a face and said, "Ewww, Teyla, TMI."  
  
  
Ronon laughed while Teyla merely smiled and shook her head. "Believe me, you have no idea how freeing this technology is. Without it, I would not be able to participate on the team nearly to the same degree as I can now. Besides, Kanaan says that this allows him to be involved in the feeding of his son whereas he would be excluded if I were breastfeeding alone. It is truly a great gift."  
  
  
"I'll take your word for it," Rodney gave a mock-shudder and Teyla smacked him on the shoulder.  
  
  
"I see Jennifer now," Teyla said suddenly. "Rodney, would you be so kind as to tell her I would like to speak with her, please?"  
  
  
"Certainly," Rodney said with alacrity, undertaking a task he normally would have balked at. John figured he was glad for the excuse to approach Jennifer and when he glanced in Teyla's direction there was a knowing expression in her eye. He forced a smile and was rewarded when Teyla smiled broadly at him. Yep. If Teyla knew that Rodney was keen on Jennifer, then it must be a known fact. He had to keep reminding himself that this was what Rodney wanted.  
  
  
"Since when is McKay so hot to talk to Jennifer?" Ronon growled.  
  
  
"I believe Rodney is very fond of Jennifer and has acknowledged that fact to himself, in light of recent events," Teyla said mildly.  
  
  
"Oh yeah?" Ronon did not sound pleased.  
  
  
"Surely you've noticed the changes in Rodney's appearance," Teyla said conversationally and John wanted to scream at her ' _are you trying to get Rodney killed??_ ' but remained silent instead. The music suddenly started up again and John recognized the song in its opening cords as being " _Victim of Love_ " by the Eagles.   
  
  
Ronon turned to watch Rodney as he was talking with Jennifer across the room, head ducked, hands a little subdued as they indicated the rest of the team and encouraged Jennifer to head in that direction.  
  
  
"You're helping him," Ronon said suddenly, turning a look of such ferocity on John that he couldn't help but think ' _oh shit_ ' as the full force of it impacted him.   
  
  
John gave a helpless little half-shrug. "He asked." Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Rodney and Jennifer heading back in their direction, Rodney guiding her through the crowd with a hand on the small of her back, Jennifer with a happy smile on her face. John felt utterly miserable.  
  
  
"Ronon," Teyla said sweetly, "A word with you, please. John, if you would apologize to Jennifer and tell her I will speak with her tomorrow?"  
  
  
John nodded glumly and wished he had a drink as he waited for Rodney to return with Jennifer. As he watched, Jennifer got side-tracked by someone in the crowd and the two of them, Rodney's hand still possessively placed against Jennifer's back, paused to speak with that person. John glanced over at Ronon and Teyla, mentally wincing at Ronon's rigid posture, the territorial animosity almost rolling off him in waves. _Guess that answers the question of whether or not he's interested in Jennifer_. As he watched, Ronon shot a hard glance in his direction, even as he leaned in to listen to whatever Teyla was saying. Rodney and Jennifer were on the move again when John saw Teyla touch Ronon's arm with a smile and then fade off into the crowd towards the exit.  
  
  
Ronon made his way back to John just as Rodney and Jennifer arrived, aiming an inexplicably smirky smile in John's direction before turning a smoldering gaze on Jennifer. She dropped her eyes and blushed under the intensity of Ronon's stare.  
  
  
"Where'd Teyla go?" Rodney sounded slightly aggrieved.  
  
  
"She had to leave," Ronon said shortly. He turned his head toward Jennifer. "She said to tell you she'd catch up with you tomorrow." He reached out and lightly took Jennifer by the wrist. "I bet you could use a drink." He began walking her towards Radek's bar without another word.  
  
  
Jennifer laughingly allowed herself to be dragged away, calling, "I'll be right back," over her shoulder as she went.  
  
  
Rodney watched them go, deep in thought.  
  
  
"Never mind, she's coming back," John reassured.  
  
  
"What? Oh, that. No, I wasn't thinking about that. I was thinking about what Jennifer told me just now. Woolsey's planning a big reception to celebrate our alliance with the Teenons in a few weeks."  
  
  
"What? When was he going to tell me? Security for these things is a bitch. I need to have a little advance notice, you know. Are they the ones with the bad teeth and the interesting mineral deposits?"  
  
  
Rodney shook his head. "No, you're thinking of the Grillions. The Teenons are the ones that smell like boiled cabbage but might have the answer to improving shield strength even with a ZedPM at less than full capacity."  
  
  
"Better shield strength is good," John could get behind that whole-heartedly. "So what's the problem?"  
  
  
"He's planning a big formal do," Rodney said with a mixture of dismay and excitement in his voice. "You know the kind. Pulling out all the stops. Tuxedo for me. Dress blues for you."  
  
  
John's heart skipped a beat at the thought of Rodney in a tux. He saw himself assisting Rodney in tying his bowtie, and leaning in when he was done to place a light kiss on the corner of Rodney's delectable crooked mouth, a down payment for what would come later in the evening when John helped him out of the formal wear.  
  
  
"So get this," Rodney continued, snapping John out of his daydream. "There's going to be an orchestra and a dance."  
  
  
"Huh," John said, trying to envision a time and place where he could dance openly in his dress blues with Rodney looking splendid in his tux. He failed miserably. That alone should be reason enough to let Rodney go, to let him find someone he cared about and could openly express his affection.  
  
  
"Hello..." Rodney snapped his fingers in front of John's face. "Are you listening to me? I said I need you to teach me how to dance."  
  
  
"What? Rodney, what makes you think..."  
  
  
"Oh no, I'm not buying that," Rodney folded his arms across his chest in a superior fashion. "Son of a wealthy industrialist? You expect me to believe there were no debutantes? No hours spent in cotillion? Please." The word said with the unspoken ' _as if_ ' behind it.  
  
  
"You want me to teach you to dance?" John said faintly. What had he done to deserve such torture?  
  
  
"Yes." Rodney turned slightly anxious blue eyes in his direction as Ronon and Jennifer were making their way back from Radek's bar, drinks in hand. Ronon was leaning in to speak to Jennifer over the noise of the music and the crowd and she smiled up at him with a happy, relaxed expression on her face. Rodney spoke to John again, and this time the words were not sarcastic but an actual request for assistance. "John. _Please_."  
  
  
What could John do but agree?  
  
  
"Thank you," Rodney said sincerely, beaming at him. His expression clouded and then he said suddenly, " _The Princess Bride_."  
  
  
John rolled his eyes. "I _said_ I don't know where the quote came from, Rodney. It's not from _The Princess Bride_. We'd have remembered that."  
  
  
Rodney's face fell. "Oh. Good point."  
  
  
On the other hand, it did sound like something that could have been said in that movie. John suddenly had his doubts. "Well, maybe..." he drawled.  
  
  
Rodney nodded solemnly. "We'll just have to watch it again to be sure."  
  
  
An odd but strangely warm feeling came over John and he found himself grinning at Rodney, who grinned back.  
  
  
****  
  
  
As he reviewed the sample power matrices the Teenons had sent over as a gesture of goodwill in advance of Woolsey's diplomatic love-in, Rodney wondered whether he was likely to cause a galactic incident were he to call up the head Teenon scientist and demand to know just how inordinately moronic they thought he was if-- Rodney cut the thought off abruptly before he could get any further into this mental rant; he rather suspected the answer to his question would be a resounding 'yes'. Besides which, he wasn't sure Woolsey was quite prepared yet to handle the repercussions of such an action; and Rodney was certain he wouldn't be able to do it with either Elizabeth's grace or Sam's tenacity.  
  
  
Deciding to cut their new commander some slack, Rodney closed down the sample and proceeded to write a brief reply of thanks to the Teenon science department. He even went so far as to say he was looking forward to discussing their methods in greater detail in person; the work was on the right track, if incredibly basic, so perhaps the Teenons were on to something after all. And anyway, were he to spark something in which Woolsey would have to intercede, he would no doubt find himself on the receiving end of more of the personal disclosures Woolsey seemed to believe would create some kind of bond between him and his senior staff. Rodney snorted to himself at the very idea that such a connection could be forced, or that Woolsey would even think in necessary – after all, the dangers of day-to-day life in Pegasus practically guaranteed the forging of strong links between expedition members.  
  
  
Having fulfilled his duty as the 'responsible and diplomatically-sensitive head of science' – and on his day off too - Rodney turned his attention to other things. Pulling up the simulations of the jumpers' fuel flow, Rodney started to mull over the results. He felt a moment's exhilaration flood through him as noted that the first set of results seemed to indicate a 2 percent increase in engine efficiency – John was going to thrilled – but quickly tempered his excitement as he knew there was a lot more work that needed to be done to the model before he could even think about proceeding to the actual testing stage. With that in mind, Rodney called up the program code and started tapping in minor amendments to the initial conditions of the model. If he managed to finish this now, he would be able to re-run the simulation overnight and so would soon be able to determine whether he could replicate the promising results of his preliminary approximation. Humming happily to himself, Rodney was soon lost to all reality, deeply engrossed in the elegance of fluid dynamics.  
  
  
He was reaching the end of the last set of amendments when his work was interrupted.   
  
  
"You know, the hair gel's pretty good, buddy, but I don't think it's gonna hold up to that kind of abuse," a voice drawled from behind him.  
  
  
"Huh?" Rodney grunted in abstraction, his eyes still glued on his screen. Suddenly he felt a hand wrap tightly around his wrist and proceed to pull his hand off his head, from where he'd been unconsciously running his fingers through his hair. "Oh," he said as he realized what he'd been doing. Turning away from his screen, he glanced up to his left to regard John with what he imagined was probably a sheepish manner. "Sorry, I was... you know..."  
  
  
John let his wrist go with a grin. "Deeply engrossed in your Nobel-worthy work, huh?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.  
  
  
"Hey!" Rodney complained, scowling and tipping his chin up in indignation. "These are your jumper specs, I'll have you know. But perhaps you no longer think they're important? If so, I'd be more than happy to use my day off to work on other projects..." He reached out with his right hand as if to close down the window as he let the threat trail off.  
  
  
"Hey now, don't do anything hasty," John replied quickly, reaching out yet again to grab hold of Rodney's arm. "Perhaps I ought to just hold on to this for a while," he said, tightening his grip on Rodney's arm. "To save you doing any more damage with it."  
  
  
"Ha, ha, very funny, Colonel," Rodney replied, trying to tug his arm out of John's grasp.  
  
  
"Ah-ah," John said, shaking his head and refusing let Rodney go. "First you gotta promise me that you'll keep working on my jumpers."  
  
  
Rodney rolled his eyes and rotated his monitor with his free hand so that John could see the results of the first simulation run. "Look here," he said tapping at screen. "See this?"  
  
  
Keeping his hold on Rodney's right arm, John leaned down so he could see the screen clearly. The movement placed the top half of his body almost directly in front of Rodney, but his grip on Rodney's arm meant that Rodney wasn't able to move back to give him more space. As a result, John's shoulder brushed against Rodney's chest as he moved closer and, for some indiscernible reason, Rodney found his breath catching in his chest at the brief contact. He could smell the light scent of John's aftershave and see the individual bristles of his beard standing out in sharp relief against his skin.   
  
  
"Two percent – that's incredible, Rodney!" John exclaimed, his eye alight with happiness as he turned his head to glance back at Rodney over his shoulder. "Guess that means I gotta let you go, huh?"  
  
  
"Um..." was all Rodney seemed capable of replying. For some reason all he could think about was how damn good it was to see John's smile – to see him positively glowing in pleasure, and at Rodney's hand no less.  
  
  
True to his word, John released Rodney's arm and pulled back. He turned around and propped himself up against Rodney's desk, crossing one ankle over the other as he lounged back, still beaming down at Rodney.  
  
  
"So, test flight this afternoon, right? You coming with me?"  
  
  
That snapped Rodney out of his stupor. "What?!" he squawked. "Certainly not - there will be no flying, test or otherwise, on these specs until I've run at least a dozen more simulations."  
  
  
"But Rodney-"  
  
  
"No; absolutely not," Rodney interrupted quickly, holding up a finger in John's face in an effort to silence him. "And don't even try the pout out on me – after over four years of working with you, I assure you that I am quite immune."  
  
  
Typically, John pouted.  
  
  
Rodney rolled his eyes. "I'm ignoring you," he said, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest.  
  
  
"But two percent!" John insisted enthusiastically. "D'you think you can get it even better?"  
  
  
Unable to remain aloof, Rodney grinned back at John. "Maybe," he replied. "But I do mean what I said, John. It's going to take more time – I've got more simulations to run before I even start modifying the engines themselves."  
  
  
John nodded as his words. "Okay," he said with a sigh. "You're the expert; guess I'll have to find something else to do with my day off."  
  
  
He looked so utterly dejected for a moment that Rodney took pity. "Look," he said, suddenly beset with the urge to reach out and touch John as he spoke. "I've already got the next simulation set up to run. If everything goes smoothly with the calculations – and let's face it, this is me we're talking about here, so I'm almost certain they will – the modifications might be ready to test as early as next week."  
  
  
John laughed again at that "That sounds excellent," he said. "Oh, and Rodney?" he added, shaking his head. "Don't ever change, okay?"   
  
  
Rodney frowned. "Hmm, I'm not sure whether to be flattered or insulted by that," he said. "Besides, isn't changing me – for the better, of course – all part of the plan?"  
  
  
An odd look, one Rodney was unsure of how to interpret, crossed John's features at his words. "No," John countered, shaking his head firmly. "Not change you, just... you know... bring out your best features."  
  
  
"Oh," Rodney replied, at a loss of what else to say. All of a sudden, it felt to Rodney that the air between them had become charged with a kind of tension he'd not felt before. It wasn't a sense of exasperation or even the sense of fond irritation he had become used to picking up from John, nor was it the animosity, dislike or jealousy he often received from his colleagues. No; this was something different... something deeper and somehow far more intimate.  
  
  
It was odd, but ever since he and John had started this 'reform Rodney' plan, Rodney had found himself fixating more and more on John. Of course, he'd always noticed John – it was kinda hard not to when the man positively oozed careless self-confidence – but his observations in the past had always been a kind of background thing. John was his friend and, as such, Rodney'd reacted to him accordingly. However, now that Rodney was supposed to be learning... well, for what of a better word, _attractiveness_ from John, he somehow couldn't help but notice _John's_ attractiveness.  
  
  
"Rodney?" John asked, his hand reaching out to touch Rodney lightly on the arm. "You okay there, buddy?"  
  
  
Rodney jerked a little at the press of John's fingers on his bicep and shook his head, blinking rapidly in an attempt to clear his suddenly scrambled thoughts. "Fine," he said. "I'm fine... I just... hmm... what were we talking about again?"  
  
  
"I was just saying that-" John suddenly got a far off look on his face and then reached up to tap his radio. "Sheppard here... Yes... yes... okay, well it is my- ah, you know, never mind. I'll be there in a few. Sheppard out." He snapped the connection closed with a groan.  
  
  
"Problems?" Rodney asked innocently, secretly glad that the interruption had given him the chance to get his thoughts in order. He'd obviously been working too hard – he should probably get out of the lab for a while.  
  
  
"This damn reception is going to be the death of me," John replied, closing his eyes and shaking his head. "Never mind the Wraith; it'll be death by dinnerware."   
  
  
Rodney had to suppress a grin at the mopey expression which crossed John's features, the one that always appeared when he was faced with a task he disliked. And, as usual, Rodney found himself having to work hard to suppress the urge to reach over and pat him in comfort. He shook his head in an attempt to clear it, wondering just how long this bizarre obsession with John would last.  
  
  
"Yes, well, I'd offer to help, but you know me and social occasions – totally clueless," he said.  
  
  
John tilted his head to one side and regarded Rodney skeptically. "Yeah, yeah, save it McKay," he replied. "I saw you at the social last night; you're fine as long as you relax and don't think too hard about what you're doing. Anyway, duty calls, so I gotta run." He started towards the door only to pause half-way and turn back to Rodney. "Now, Rodney, you were planning on going to the gym today, weren't you?" he asked.  
  
  
Rodney's only reply was to scowl at him.  
  
  
"Hey," John said, turning around fully to approach Rodney again. "Remember what we talked about – getting the girl, faint hearts and all that?"   
  
  
"Yes, yes, I know," Rodney relented, rolling his eyes as he looked back at John. "And, before you pout yet again, I was already planning to go. Although if I strain something vital and am permanently incapacitated, you have no one to blame but yourself."   
  
  
****  
  
  
Several hours, one kidnapping and four Wraith hunters later had Rodney wondering whether a simple trip to the gym would have been better. But no, he was needed here – despite Ronon's insinuations – and so here was where he was happy to be. He could feel the panic rising yet again in his chest and reached down to his thigh holster to feel the reassuring shape of his Berretta in his hand – that last encounter with the Wraith had been a little too close for comfort. He was beginning to appreciate John's obsession with Ronon's energy pistol; his hand gun had barely managed to slow down the Wraith whereas Ronon's weapon had felled it with a single shot.  
  
  
"Damn it," he cursed under his breath as he stumbled over the root mass of a tree in his hurried attempt to keep up with Ronon's longer stride. He was _not_ going to be the weakest link in this mission. So what if he wasn't au fait with the latest traps in a runner's repertoire? What did it matter that he relied on his 'little gadgets'? That's why they were a _team_ , wasn't it? Because they all brought complimentary skills to the table.  
  
  
Glancing up he saw that Ronon had managed to get even further ahead of him. Letting out a sigh, he picked up his pace again, keeping his eyes pinned firmly to the ground so as not to fall foul of any more ill-placed roots. He tried to keep himself from thinking too closely about Jennifer's situation – experienced enough by now with Pegasus-style hostage scenarios, from both sides, to know that panicking would help no one. He had to stay focused, trust his team mate, and believe that they would find her in time. After all, she'd survived being trapped in that abandoned Genii mine, so he knew she could handle herself. It was one of the things he liked about her – the fact that she, like himself, was a scientist having to adapt to the life in Pegasus as best she could.   
  
  
The fact that she had volunteered for this mission to help the people of M33-985 impressed Rodney no end, telling him that she was as committed as he to not only Atlantis, but Pegasus as well. When he'd encountered her talking to Woolsey about going to treat the sick on M33-985, he'd immediately known that this was the perfect opportunity to show her just what kind of man he could be – as he'd told John, a kinder and gentler Rodney McKay. He'd even gone so far as to do a bit of quick research on the various antiviral drugs that could be used to prevent the spread of the influenza virus to demonstrate the strength of his commitment. In fact, he had a copy of Gubareva's article on "the molecular mechanisms of influenza virus resistance to neuraminidase inhibitors" downloaded onto his PDA just in case Jennifer might need to refer to it were they to discover a resistant strain.  
  
  
As he'd raced back to his quarters to prepare for the mission, Rodney had spared a moment to think of how proud John would be of him for taking this opportunity. It had therefore come as a something of a surprise to observe John's actual response to what Rodney had thought had been a stroke of genius. When John turned up unexpectedly at Rodney's quarters, instead of the pleasure Rodney had expected to see in John's eyes he'd been faced instead with what looked almost like profound disappointment. It was a reaction which both saddened and confused Rodney; he'd found himself staring at his door for long moment after John's rather abrupt departure, racking his brain in an attempt to understand what he'd done wrong. For a moment there he'd been reminded of how John had looked when Rodney had confessed to John that he intended to propose to Katie, or when he'd told John that he wanted to feed himself to the Wraith in order to save Jeannie. Rodney shook his head; things with John were always very confusing.  
  
  
"Ow!" Rodney exclaimed as, with his next step, he felt a sharp edge dig painfully into his heel. "Perfect, just perfect," he groused as he hobbled a couple of paces 'til he found a place to sit down. "Hey, Ronon – wait up; I've got a stone in my boot."  
  
  
True to his current form on this particular mission, Ronon didn't even pause. "Yes, great – thank you," Rodney muttered as reached down to unlace his boot. Moving as quickly as he could, he turned his boot upside-down and shook out the offending stone. It happened as he was peering down into the boot, making sure that there weren't any more stones lurking inside. From out of nowhere a Wraith came into view, firing its stunner at him. Without even thinking about it, Rodney found himself ducking out of the way whilst simultaneously reaching for his weapon. Regaining his footing, he hopped backwards frantically, clutching his boot with one hand and firing his handgun repeatedly with the other. By some amazing stroke of luck, his shots were true and the Wraith toppled over backwards, obviously dead. Stunned by the fact that he'd actually managed to kill the Wraith, Rodney didn't actually hear Ronon's approach until Ronon was already yelling at him.  
  
  
"What the hell are you doing?" Ronon bellowed.  
  
  
Rodney blinked in surprise at the venom in Ronon's tone and then gestured to the dead body in front of them. "At the moment, killing Wraith!" he shouted back, the adrenaline just now hitting his system and making him feel rather jittery and light-headed. He sat down heavily, trying to focus on putting his boot back on and on calming his galloping heart rate.  
  
  
"And what were you stopping for?" Ronon demanded.  
  
  
Rodney looked at Ronon again, still startled by the antagonism in his voice. "I'd got a stone in my boot," he replied, striving for calm. "I _told_ you."  
  
  
"No, you didn't," Ronon countered, glowering down at him.  
  
  
"Yes, I did," Rodney insisted. "I said, 'wait up, I've got a stone in my boot'." He forced himself to take a deep breath, reminding himself that Ronon was just worried about Jennifer and probably more than a little spooked at the prospect of meeting another runner.  
  
  
Nevertheless, it was still disconcerting when Ronon stalked even closer and glared some more. "Ever second _you_ lag behind makes it that much harder for _me_ to track this guy, especially at night."  
  
  
However, instead of that comment riling Rodney up or intimidating him, he found that it merely increased his determination to prove his usefulness – because now it was _his_ turn to save the day. "Not any more," he countered triumphantly, skirting around the still-glaring Ronon to get to the dead Wraith. "We don't have to play Mantracker now," he continued with a grin. "Now we're gonna know _exactly_ where this guy is, thanks to this handy gadget." He waved the tracking device he'd pulled from the Wraith's arm in front of Ronon's nose, smiling smugly as he was able to toss Ronon's words back in his face.  
  
  
Instead of being pleased at Rodney's discovery, Ronon merely grabbed the device from Rodney. "Look at that signal," he growled, stabbing his finger at the screen. "They're even further away than I thought." Then, after shoving the tracker roughly back into Rodney's hands, Ronon proceeded to storm off again.  
  
  
Rodney looked down at the device and couldn't help but smile – despite Ronon's behavior, which Rodney was attempting to overlook due to the extenuating circumstances, this was going to make finding Jennifer so much easier. Then, realizing that Ronon was getting ahead of him again, he started off after him at a run.  
  
  
****  
  
  
Another few rather fraught hours, even more Wraith, the pre-requisite sick child, not to mention another last minute technological miracle courtesy of Dr Rodney McKay, saw them all back on Atlantis, safe and sound. Jennifer was rescued, the sick child was cured, and Rodney felt that the mission had been, on the whole, a success. Nevertheless, he couldn't help but feel a prickle of unease at Ronon's persistent hovering around Jennifer. Despite his best efforts, it was pretty obvious that Ronon still had some sort of... intentions towards her. However, Rodney was determined not be disheartened – after all, he had a hidden advantage, one about which Ronon knew nothing: Rodney had _John_.  
  
  
As he showered off the sweat and grime, Rodney wondered about Ronon's behavior during the mission. That he'd been focused on finding Jennifer and irritated by Rodney's mere presence was a given. However, neither were exactly what you could call out-of-character behaviors; Ronon was _always_ focused when it came to protecting the people of Atlantis and Rodney's admittedly verbose nature usually _did_ rub Ronon up the wrong way. Still, it had felt that there was something especially pointed in his derision of Rodney's survivalist skills – and that was out-of-character.   
  
  
Although they might not be bosom buddies, Rodney and Ronon were actually friends as well as team mates. They had bonded over a shared love of tormack in its many varied and delicious forms, an interest in large explosions that reached almost scholarly heights, and an enjoyment of the largely underrated pastime of watching John getting beaten up by Teyla and her bantos sticks. Furthermore, from what John told him of the time he was mentally incapacitated, his cure was largely due to Ronon's insistence that they take him to Talos.   
  
  
Rodney sighed as he switched off his shower, opening the door a crack so he could grab his towel. Unfortunately, all of that meant that the most likely explanation for Ronon's recent antagonism was their apparently shared interest in Jennifer. Rodney dried himself off quickly and then stepped out of the shower cubicle, wrapping the towel around his waist as he did so. Catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror over the sink he released another sigh; seriously, what chance did he have of capturing Jennifer's attentions when he was up against someone like Ronon? It was all right there in front of him – his receding hairline, pallid skin and rather pudgy middle section. He scrubbed his hand over his face in exasperation – this way of thinking was not helping matters. His beard prickled unpleasantly under his hand at the action, reminding him that he'd not shaved the night before, at John's bidding. The thought of John helped him snap out of his impending depression - deciding to concentrate on making the best of his physical assets, he reached for his shaving kit and started getting rid of the itchy stubble. After all, John thought he was a pretty good-looking guy and John was certainly the best-looking guy Rodney knew – so that had to count for something, didn't it? Sure Ronon might have youth and the whole muscle-bound thing going for him, but Rodney had good shoulders, nice eyes and one of the best asses on Atlantis.  
  
  
He finished shaving and then turned his attention to his hair, using John's little tube of gel sparingly so that his hair spiked up nicely. He grinned smugly into the mirror at the results – maybe he was getting the hang of this. However, he still spent long minutes staring sightlessly into his closet, completely lacking in inspiration, before grabbing his standard uniform. Once dressed, he vacillated around his quarters for a couple of minutes, wondering what his next course of action should be. Part of him was itching to get back to his lab – after being absent all day, heaven only knew what state he'd find things upon his return. With the upcoming event, he wouldn't put it past the botanists not to overstep their bounds and take over the main lab – Parrish had been wandering around looking all too pleased with himself ever since Woolsey had tasked his team with providing the decorations for dinner and dance. Not to mention that the second run of his new and improved jumper engine model would also be finished and he was full of nervous anticipation to see whether the results replicated the success of the first. However, he rather suspected the best thing for him to do would be to head up to the infirmary to check on Celise and Jennifer.  
  
  
He frowned, trying to come up with a game plan – he wasn't really what one could call a natural kid-person, but that still hadn't stopped Jeannie from foisting Madison upon him at every available opportunity. So, he knew he should probably bring something for Celise. His eyes scanned over his quarters, looking for an idea; rather unsurprisingly there really wasn't much of interest for a seven year-old girl in the rooms of a forty year-old astrophysicist. Suddenly he spied John's portable game console lying on his desk, half buried under a stack of _Physics Letters B_. Deciding that it was probably as good as it was going to get as far as child-friendly entertainment was concerned – he'd have to rib John later about his game being the most suitable thing in his possession for a pre-pubescent girl - he pocketed it and then headed out of his quarters towards the infirmary.   
  
  
The first thing he spotted when he entered the infirmary was Celise. She was still looking very frail and tiny as she lay in one of the beds surrounded by monitors, but she no longer appeared flushed with fever, which Rodney decided was probably a good thing.  
  
  
"Ah, hello," he said as he walked up to her bed, smiling what he hoped was a friendly smile at the girl. "My name's Rodney; you probably won't remember, but I was one of the men who helped you when you weren't feeling well."  
  
  
Celise looked up at him nervously, her eyes appearing huge in her pale face.   
  
  
"Um," Rodney prevaricated, trying to come up with something to say to the girl. Fortunately, he was saved by Jennifer's approach.  
  
  
"Hi Rodney," Jennifer greeted him cheerfully as she started checking the readings on one of the screens.  
  
  
"Hi," he replied and then stalled yet again. Great, he thought to himself, this was just great – now he didn't seem to be capable of talking to either the child or the woman. Perhaps he should have just gone to the lab after all.  
  
  
"So," he asked, forcing himself to speak, "how's she doing?"  
  
  
Jennifer smiled up at him briefly before turning back to Celise. "Much better, aren't you honey?" she replied.   
  
  
"Good, that's... ah... good," Rodney said. Suddenly he remembered the game. "Oh, here," he said, thrusting it towards Celise, who promptly retreated back into her pillow. "No, no, it's okay," he said quickly. "Really, it's just a game – you know, something fun for you to play."  
  
  
"Oh Rodney, how thoughtful," Jennifer said, with yet another smile. "It's okay, Celise," she reassured the still terrified-looking child. "This is my friend, Rodney. He's one of the men who helped me bring you here so you could get well."  
  
  
" _I_ told her that," Rodney muttered under his breath.  
  
  
"I'm sure he'll be happy to show you how to play the game," Jennifer continued as if she hadn't heard Rodney's complaint. She turned to him and plucked the console out of his hands and held it out to Celise with an encouraging smile.  
  
  
Celise took the game from Jennifer with a shy smile of her own and then turned her head to look up at Rodney.  
  
  
"Go on then, Rodney," Jennifer said, reaching out to pull him a little closer to Celise's bedside.  
  
  
"Okay," he said, moving towards the girl so he could show her the controls. "Well, see, you use these two buttons here... no, no, no, don't hold it like that – with your thumbs – yes, that's better. Okay so now, you see these things – they're called ducks. They're a type of water bird – rowdy, quacking things; nice eggs though..." As he was momentarily diverted by the thoughts of a duck egg omelet, Celise started pressing the firing buttons. "Uh, no, no. As they fly up, you want to use that button there to shoot them."  
  
  
At his direction, Celise looked up at him in dismay. "Shoot the ducks?" she asked querulously.   
  
  
"They're not real ducks, obviously," Rodney replied, briefly wishing that they were – it had been far too long since he'd had a real egg. The commissary had taken to serving those disturbing not!eggs from that lizard-thing on M356-9TY. Rodney shuddered; no matter what Jennifer said, he was convinced that no egg with _that_ many corners could possibly be healthy. "They're just... you know... pretend, so..." he made a 'have at it' gesture with his hands.  
  
  
When Celise continued to stare up at him in bemusement, Jennifer turned from the monitor she'd been studying. "Maybe you should show her a different game," she suggested.  
  
  
"Yeah, sure. Here," he said, taking the game from Celise. He flicked through the games menu, wondering if any of them would appeal to the girl.   
  
  
Before he could pick a more suitable game, John walked into the room. Rodney found his gaze seeking out John's at once; he was slightly nervous for some reason – still feeling somewhat confused by John's reaction to him going on this mission in the first place. John hadn't been in the gateroom when they'd come through, so this had been the first time Rodney had seen him since their return. The fact that Ronon followed John into the room suggested to Rodney that Ronon had been briefing John on what had happened.  
  
  
To Rodney's relief John shot him a grin before turning his attention to Celise. "Well, how's our little patient?" he asked, no doubt charming her in the process, Rodney thought with a brief flash of irritation.  
  
  
"Oh, much better. She's a heck of a fighter," Jennifer replied.  
  
  
Glancing up to Rodney again quickly, John tilted his head to the side and looked back down to Celise again. "Is he bothering you?" he asked her, jerking his head towards Rodney. "Cause I can have him removed. Forcibly."  
  
  
Rodney rolled his eyes as Celise perked up almost instantaneously. "Really?" she asked, positively beaming at John.  
  
  
'Anything female,' he thought to himself. "Yeah, he's kidding," he snapped, glaring at John, who just smiled back at him, all sweetness and light.  
  
  
"I talked to one of the families on 985 -- the woman whose home we visited?" Jennifer said, cutting off Rodney's forthcoming retort to John. "She'd love to have Celise come live with them."  
  
  
Ronon stepped forward as she spoke. "That's great," he said, sounding positively pleasant. Rodney frowned – yeah, he was definitely up to something.  
  
  
"Will I see Kiryk again?" Celise asked suddenly.  
  
  
"I don't know, sweetheart," Jennifer replied, looking rather stricken.  
  
  
"We're still looking for him, keeping our eyes and ears open," John reassured her; Rodney could practically _see_ the hero-complex shining from his very core.  
  
  
"Hey, I brought you something," Ronon said to Celise, holding her doll out to her. "I think you dropped this in the woods."  
  
  
"My doll!" Celise exclaimed, holding her arms out for the toy and then cradling it to her as if it was the most precious thing in the world. Then again, Rodney thought with a sudden surge of empathy, it might well be the only thing that had survived the culling of her village.   
  
  
Then Ronon did a Very Unusual Thing – he smiled at Jennifer. It wasn't really the smile itself per se that was so unusual, rather it was the manner with which Ronon smiled it - open, friendly and almost a little bashfully. As Jennifer smiled back at Ronon, her delight at his thoughtfulness obvious, Rodney felt a sudden surge of disappointment. The two of them started talking together in low voices, Ronon's large body bending down towards Jennifer slight frame in a way that managed to look both protective and respectful.   
  
  
Rodney sighed to himself as he watched them. He wondered whether he should just give up on the whole thing. The prospect of his lab was looking more and more tempting; perhaps he was just destined to be alone. So lost was he in his self-absorption, he didn't notice John's approach until the other man's shoulder bumped lightly against his own.  
  
  
"Hey," John said mildly. "So, sounds like you guys had quite a day."  
  
  
Rodney snorted. "You could say that," he replied. "Abduction, Wraith, and almost constant terror – just what I needed on my day off."  
  
  
"Sounds like a good thing you were there though," John replied.  
  
  
"Yes, well," Rodney said. "As usual, my presence was, of course, pivotal to our safe return."  
  
  
"Of course," John echoed, the grin he was suppressing clearly audible in his voice. "Though I hear they did pretty good as well," he continued, gesturing towards Ronon and Jennifer, who were still deep in conversation.   
  
  
"Yes, yes," Rodney agreed. "It was a team effort and all that. Look, do you want to get out of here?" he asked, feeling his irritation levels rise as he watched Jennifer smile at Ronon and touch him gently on the arm.  
  
  
"Sure," John replied. When Rodney turned to look at him, the expression of surprise and pleasure on John's face immediately made Rodney feel better – at least John wanted to spend some time with him.   
  
  
Having said their goodbyes, they left the infirmary and ended up wandering by mutual unspoken consent towards the pier. It was late afternoon and the sun was hanging low in the sky as they took up their usual positions seated on the very edge, legs dangling out over the water. They sat together in silence for a while, and Rodney found himself replay the mission over in his head – Ronon's behavior in particular.   
  
  
"So," Rodney said, breaking the silence as he finally gave voice to his concerns. "What do you think I did wrong?"  
  
  
"Wrong?" John asked, looking over at him in confusion.  
  
  
"You know," Rodney said. "With Ronon, on the mission. He just seemed pissed at me the entire time – way more than normal."  
  
  
"Ah," was John's only reply.  
  
  
"I mean, I know backwoods survival isn't really my area of expertise, but I did hold my own," Rodney insisted in exasperation. "The only reason we managed to find Jennifer so quickly was because _I_ killed a Wraith who had a tracking device for Kiryk. Plus, I also fixed his transporter so he could create the diversion which allowed up to escape. What more could I have done?"  
  
  
John sighed. "Nothing, Rodney," he replied. "You did good – really."  
  
  
Rodney huffed, "So what the hell is his problem, then? It's Jennifer, isn't it? He's interested in her and sees me as some sort of rival."  
  
  
"Well, that's not something either of us can answer, Rodney," John replied.  
  
  
Rodney groaned. "I need to talk to him, don't I?" he said, wondering if he looked as pained by the thought as he felt. John's reply was to reach out and clap him on the shoulder, so Rodney reckoned that he probably did.   
  
  
"Fraid so, buddy," John said. "But just remember: fai-"  
  
  
"Faint hearts," Rodney finished for him. "Yes, yes, I know." He sighed again, wondering whether this was all really worth the effort; like the pull of his lab earlier, the urge to just stay here on the pier with John was strong. But then Jeannie's words came back to him and, with them, the fear of ending up alone. "Okay," he said, steeling himself. "I suppose I'd better get this over and done with." He heaved himself to his feet with obvious reluctance.  
  
  
"Hey," John said, reaching out to grab Rodney's calf as he turned to go. "Ronon's your friend; make sure you remember that, okay?" He gave Rodney's leg a firm squeeze before letting him go.  
  
  
Rodney nodded, somewhat reassured by John's touch, but then pulled a face. "He's also a lot bigger than me," he couldn't help pointing out.  
  
  
"Be that as it may," John said. "It's not like you're gonna have to fight him for her, or anything. Just talk to him – he may not be interested in Jennifer after all."  
  
  
"I suppose not," Rodney said uncertainly. "I'll see you later on tonight, right?" he asked as he slowly started to make his way back inside.  
  
  
"Of course," John replied easily as he turned back to stare out at the ocean. "You know where I live; just come by when you're ready."  
  
  
****  
  
  
As he watched Ronon smile at him as he started casually twirling one of the long bantos sticks, Rodney wondered whether he was displaying a special Satedan intimidation technique or if it was merely a Ronon Dex original. At first Rodney had been relieved at Ronon's denial of having any intentions towards Jennifer, romantic or otherwise. However, he'd then felt his heart sink continually lower as Ronon kept calling him back and changing his story. Having finally got him to admit that he was, in fact, interested in Jennifer in a romantic fashion; Rodney wondered what the best approach was likely to be. Eyeing the still-swinging stick, Rodney recalled John's words.  
  
  
"I'm not gonna fight you for her, if that's what you're thinking," he said.  
  
  
Ronon merely smiled wolfishly. "Great!" he replied.  
  
  
Rodney frowned; that wasn't quite what he meant. "I'm not gonna step aside, either," he clarified. "So we're just gonna have to let _her_ decide."  
  
  
"Okay," Ronon said, obviously unperturbed by the suggestion.  
  
  
"Okay," Rodney repeated. Once again John's words echoed through this mind. ' _Ronon's your friend_ '. "So," he continued, walking forward and reaching out to Ronon with his right hand. "May the best man win."  
  
  
Ronon mirrored his gesture and they shook hands.   
  
  
"Right," Rodney said. "Now that we have that out in the open, do you think you could stop... you know... _smiling_ at me like that," he shuddered.  
  
  
Ronon laughed, and then reached out and slapped Rodney on the shoulder, almost knocking him over. "Good job out there, McKay," he said.  
  
  
"Oh, so _now_ you say it," Rodney replied, rolling his eyes as he rubbed his stinging shoulder with his left hand. "And... ah.... you know, thanks for coming back for me."  
  
  
"Don't mention it," Ronon replied. He started to swinging the stick again, obviously eager to get back to his work-out.  
  
  
"Okay," Rodney said, backing out of the way. "So I'll see you later, I guess."  
  
  
"Were you going to go see her now?" Ronon asked as he starts moving through the bantos forms. "Cause she's still in the infirmary."  
  
  
"Who?" Rodney asked. "Oh – Jennifer, right. Ah, no; not as it happens," he replied, pausing and turning back to face Ronon. "I was actually going to see John." He could already feel the relief start to flood through him at the prospect of spending the evening with John – no stress, no need to worry about keeping himself in line, just the two of them kicking back and hanging out.  
  
  
"Huh," Ronon said. He stopped moving abruptly and turned to look at Rodney directly, tilting his head to one side as if trying to figure something out. "Are _you_ sure about your intentions, McKay?" he asked.  
  
  
Rodney frowned; he thought they'd already covered this. "Uh, yes, I told you," he said slowly. "You know, it was the bit with all the alpha-male posturing and the intimidating smiles."  
  
  
"If you say so, McKay," Ronon replied, giving Rodney another long look before starting up his work-out again.   
  
  
As Rodney left the gym, he had a whole host of conflicting emotions swirling through him. He was relieved to have sorted out the animosity between himself and Ronon, but he was also disappointed that Ronon had declared his interest in Jennifer. He was confused about Ronon's last comment, and yet still adamant that pursuing Jennifer was the right thing for him to do. He shook his head to clear it and headed off down the corridor towards John– it had been a _very_ long day and he would worry about it all tomorrow.   
  
  
****  
  
  
John was not looking forward to his session with Rodney tonight, a fact that was depressing him just a little. Nearly two weeks had passed since he'd persuaded Rodney to go down to the mixer; in just a few days now, the big reception for the Teenons would be held. John remembered with a little smile the way Rodney had come charging into his room, his eyes alight with glee as he relayed to John the unexpected news that Rodney's tuxedo pants were actually a little loose in the waist and he'd have to have them taken in. Rodney had done a little victory hand roll and then laughed as he posed like John Travolta in Saturday Night Fever, one hand pointing at the ceiling and then other at the ground as he twisted his hips sideways.  
  
  
No, Rodney's appearance wasn't the problem. If anything, the more relaxed, 'cool' look was bringing out a playful side of Rodney that John had only ever seen when Rodney was succumbing to the effects of the alien parasite the previous month. Jennifer wasn't the only one who'd noticed, either. John had realized (somewhat morosely) one morning as he watched Rodney flirting (with _Cadman_ , of all people) that even if Jennifer should ultimately choose Ronon, it wouldn't be long before some other woman stepped forward to take her place in Rodney's heart.  
  
  
But even that wasn't what made him wish he could get out of this evening's 'lesson'.  
  
  
It was the dancing. Rodney tackled the task like he did everything, with a single-minded focus and determination that should result in a successful mastering of skills but in reality, did no such thing. Oh, Rodney had the moves okay, but it was a stilted, wooden effort at best, as he stared fixedly at his feet, the tip of his tongue protruding from his mouth as he concentrated on not macerating John's toes.  
  
  
Thank god for combat boots.  
  
  
John thought he knew how to solve the problem. He just wasn't sure he had the nerve pull it off. Or whether he wanted to do so. _Oh you want to_ , a nasty little voice insinuated inside his head, _you just don't trust yourself to stay cool_.  
  
  
He wanted to tell the nasty voice to go fuck itself, but he knew already what the response would be, even nastier and more suggestive than before. Arguing with yourself really sucked sometimes.  
  
  
He'd laid his plans with care. Now he'd just have to see if Rodney would be able to step up to the plate as he predicted—as he hoped.  
  
  
"So remind me again," Rodney's voice suddenly complained in his earpiece, "exactly why are we meeting so late at night?"  
  
  
"You'd better be on your way," John toned down the implied threat by adding, "and like I said, dancing lesson. You weaseled out earlier this evening." He positioned himself, leaning with his lower back against the balcony rail, crossing his feet at the ankles and gripping his elbows lightly in a deceptively calm pose. He wanted this to be the first thing Rodney saw when he came through the glass doors. It was a calculated move, and more blatant than he was used to doing, but then everything this evening was a calculated move.   
  
  
"About that," Rodney began, and John felt his heart plummet to the soles of his black leather dress shoes. _C'mon Rodney_ , he found himself pleading silently, _don't let me down here_.  
  
  
"I'm beginning to think the whole dance thing is a bad idea," Rodney rattled on, sounding nervous. "Not that it has anything to do with you, mind you, it's just...I mean, I'm never going to be any good at it, and certainly not in time for the reception, so maybe it would be best if we just forgot the whole thing."  
  
  
"You'd better be on this balcony in less than ten minutes, McKay," John said and then cursed himself for making it sound like an order. That was _not_ the mood he was going for tonight. "Besides, you're wrong. You've already got it; you just don't know it yet."  
  
  
"And why, pray tell, are we on the balcony tonight instead of your quarters? You've noticed that the temperature is dropping and the wind is picking up, right?"  
  
  
John felt the evening breeze tease his forelock and tucked the ends of the scarlet scarf around the edge of his collar as the wind tugged at it as well. Overhead, the two moons had risen and were nearly full—they would be completely full and shining like luminous disks in the sky by the night of the reception. As it was, they bathed the decking in a clear, silvery light. "The weather is perfect. Besides, I need more room to prove my point."  
  
  
"Oh, and what point would that be?" As Rodney finished speaking in a voice dripping with sarcasm, the balcony doors opened and he stepped outside with his usual single-minded drive. He came to an abrupt stop to stare open-mouthed at John.   
  
  
John knew he looked good. He'd dressed with care in his close-fitting black jeans and a black cotton shirt he'd left open at the neck, with only the scarf as a violent splash of color in his apparel. He also suspected that the moonlight left Rodney in no doubt that John had a hard-on. He felt decadent and dangerous and that he really was all the things that people thought he was. He held the lean for a heartbeat longer and then slowly he straightened, levering himself off the rail with ease and moving deliberately towards Rodney.  
  
  
"Um, wow," Rodney continued to gape, a fact that John tried to deny gave him pleasure. "You, um, look good?" Rodney's uncertainty made him end on a slightly strangled note.  
  
  
John chuckled, throaty and soft. "Back to my point," he said, moving into Rodney's space until he could see that Rodney's eyes were wide and dark in the moonlight.  
  
  
"Your point?" Rodney echoed stupidly, blinking several times.  
  
  
Crossing mental fingers, John suddenly threw a sucker punch in the direction of Rodney's head. To his relief, Rodney blocked him without thinking and then complained loudly, " _Hey_!"  
  
  
John took a step back (after all, Rodney looked pretty pissed) and grinned. "See? My point."  
  
  
Rodney scowled and crossed his arms. "What point would that be? The one where you try to give me a black eye?"  
  
  
"My point," John drawled, "is that you weren't any better at defending yourself when you first arrived here than you are at dancing now. But when I threw that punch, your response was automatic. Same as when you guys were attacked on M33-985. You shot and killed that Wraith to get the tracking device. And Ronon says your aim was pretty accurate."  
  
  
John could see Rodney's expression change and knew Rodney was about to correct him on something, most likely Rodney's real reason for shooting the Wraith was self-defense and that securing the tracker was just a lucky break. John didn't wait for Rodney to have a sudden attack of being humble and he hurried on. "You know how to dance too." He waved a hand over at the ipod sitting in the shadow of the building, hooked up to borrowed speakers. "So we're going to try this out here tonight. You're just concentrating too hard. You need to feel the music instead."  
  
  
This time he could clearly see Rodney's face fall.  
  
  
"Better give it up then," Rodney said, a note of bitterness creeping into his voice. He let his arms fall to his sides, his shoulders slumping as well. "I can't feel the music. That's why I was advised to give up the piano all those years ago. My instructor said I had no passion." He suddenly looked tired and defeated.  
  
  
"You're kidding me, right?" John said, Rodney looking up sharply at the incredulity in his voice. John stepped forward and gripped Rodney lightly by the elbow. "Rodney, you're the most passionate person I know."  
  
  
Rodney quirked a shy, pleased little grin in his direction before saying gruffly, "I'll pretend you meant that as a compliment."  
  
  
"I did," John said, giving his arm a little squeeze before releasing it. "I know you can do this. You just need to stop concentrating so hard."  
  
  
"I'm afraid I'll screw up," Rodney frowned.  
  
  
"Well, of _course_ you will," John laughed. "You're no Fred Astaire."  
  
  
"Way to give a pep talk, Sheppard," Rodney scowled. "You sound like Jeannie now. Remind me to call you then next time the Wraith attack. No wait, I _will_ call you the next time the Wraith attack. You're frighteningly optimistic under those circumstances."   
  
  
John made a face and then went back to his argument. "I'm going to prove to you that you can do this. We're going to turn on the music here and you're going follow my lead."  
  
  
"Wait, wait, wait," Rodney protested, snapping his fingers at John. "Shouldn't I lead? I mean, after all, it'll be me dancing with Jennifer in a few days."  
  
  
John shook his head and walked over the ipod, selecting the playlist he'd put together earlier. As the music started, he walked back to Rodney, holding up one hand in invitation. "Not tonight. Your only task tonight is to forget everything else and just go with the music."  
  
  
Rodney swallowed hard and stepped forward into the circle of John's arms, taking John's right hand in his left and placing his right hand cautiously on John's shoulder. John placed his left hand on Rodney's waist. Rodney immediately looked down at his feet.  
  
  
"Uh-uh," John corrected. "Look at me or close your eyes but ignore your feet, Rodney."  
  
  
Rodney nodded stiffly and shuffled his feet awkwardly as John began to move the two of them in time to the music. "You changed clothes," Rodney said, a note of accusation in his voice. "I mean, you, uh, _dressed_ for the part."   
  
  
John couldn't help but give his trademark half-smile. "That's the other part of tonight's lesson, Rodney. Dancing is just like sex. It's all about _attitude_."  
  
  
Rodney looked at him abruptly, his expression one of a deer caught in headlights. He stumbled and then caught himself, chest bumping up against John's until he regained his footing. John suppressed a sigh. The sultry, little-girl voice of Norah Jones began to fill the air around them as she sang _Don't Know Why_ to the accompaniment of piano and bass. Rodney glanced over at the ipod with a frown. "That's incredibly good sound you're getting there from those dinky little speakers. What did you do to them?"  
  
  
John started to gripe at Rodney for spoiling the mood, but he then realized that distracted by the technical problem, Rodney was forgetting to worry about the dancing and was letting John guide him about the deck with ease. John teased him with suggestions that he'd allowed Radek to make modifications to the speaker system, tying it into the Lantean database while Norah slid into a gently rhythmic _Cold, Cold Heart_. John let his body sway more into the music, bringing his hips into play as he moved, Rodney becoming increasingly responsive as well, moving in synch with John as though they'd been dancing together for years.  
  
  
By the time Norah reached _Feelin' the Same Way_ , Rodney had loosened up enough to allow John to fold the back of Rodney's hand into his shoulder, his own hips following the movement of John's with the more upbeat tempo, laughing as John pushed him back into a spin and then whipped him in and up close again. Rodney was still chuckling into John's grin when the music slowed and the rainy day sound of _Come Away with Me_ rose around them.  
  
  
John slowed his own movements until he was just shifting his feet slightly, the hand on Rodney's waist having crept down to the top of his hip, holding Rodney against him as they swayed to the music. John let his head tip forward until his forehead was resting gently against Rodney's, lost in the music, allowing himself to imagine a different sort of dance between them. It was an indulgence that he did not let himself experience often; an appreciative glance at a nicely defined bicep, or an oh-so-delicious ass waggling at him as Rodney crawled deeper under some console—these were the little things he let himself enjoy for a brief moment when they occurred. Anything more in Rodney's presence was skating on thin ice as far as John was concerned. But sometimes, late at night, particularly when the day had sucked and he wondered what the fuck he was doing in another galaxy commanding an alien outpost, John let himself picture Rodney like this. Rodney, warm and compliant in his arms. Rodney moving underneath his hands, underneath his body, Rodney moaning and his skin slick with sweat, Rodney shuddering as he pressed his lips open-mouthed on John's bare skin. Rodney, who was bound to be inventive in bed, all wicked grins and clever fingers... John lifted his head to find Rodney staring at him, lips parted slightly as Rodney's tongue flicked nervously over them.  
  
  
John swallowed hard and noticed that Rodney's gaze seemed to zero in on his throat, watching his Adam's apple move, following the visible chain of his dog tags down the line of John's neck down into the opening of his shirt. The music shifted to _Turn Me On_ and John could feel the sudden heat between them. John let his hand move around to the small of Rodney's back, fingers splayed against his spine. He could feel the warmth of Rodney's breath gusting against his neck in the cool night air. _Me_ , he wanted to say aloud, saying it instead with his body. He locked eyes with Rodney. _You say you love Keller but it's me you came to in the night. I'm the one you gave twenty-five years of your life to trying to save in the alternate timeline, not Jennifer. It's me, Rodney. It's always been me._  
  
  
Rodney stumbled a little, pressing up against John even closer and John's cock throbbed with the hip to hip contact. The music continued on, but Rodney stopped moving, a tiny crease forming between his eyes. "John?" His voice was quiet, questioning.   
  
  
It was risky and stupid and not part of the plan and perhaps that was why John did it. He released Rodney's hand and reached for the back of his neck, steadying his head as John dipped in for a kiss. He could feel the stunned shock in the way Rodney's muscles bunched under his hands and then that slight relaxing of Rodney's body into his, before Rodney began to kiss him back in earnest. The moment was short-lived though. John felt the freeze-up before the reaction actually occurred. Rodney suddenly shoved him backwards.  
  
  
"You...you..." he stammered, his mouth hanging open in shock. "You _kissed_ me."  
  
  
"Brilliant observation there, McKay." John pulled out the drawl like it was a shield. What had he been _thinking_?  
  
  
A moment of hurt and confusion passed over Rodney's face, and John was vividly reminded of the last time something had impaled him in the gut. Come to think of it, that had been because of Jennifer as well. He had a split second to wonder how things would have turned out now if he'd been forced to kill Keller when the strange, symbiotic, alien vegetation within her was trying to take over the city. He'd been prepared to do so. He'd have done anything to protect the city. His mind suddenly substituted Rodney for Jennifer in that situation and he knew a moment of defeat. Okay, so maybe he wouldn't do _anything_ to save the city...  
  
  
Rodney's expression turned thunderous. "What the hell was that?"  
  
  
John shrugged. "Obviously a mistake."  
  
  
He very deliberately sauntered past Rodney for the doors. He paused as the doors slid open at his approach, glancing back at Rodney, who stood with his fists on his hips, a thoughtful, frowning expression on his face.   
  
  
"That concludes the John Sheppard School of Dating," John tossed over his shoulder. "Congratulations, you've graduated with honors."   
  
  
Norah Jones was singing _The Nearness of You_ with heartbreaking clarity as he left the balcony.   
  
  
****  
  
  
John _hated_ making a tactical error. It made him feel stupid—tactics was the one thing he was supposed to be really good at and he'd often thought if he'd paid the sort of attention to his personal life that he paid to a battle plan, even an _off-the-cuff_ battle plan, that his love life would be a lot simpler. As in, it would actually exist.  
  
  
But no, he had to go and give in to impulse, and not only was it completely the wrong thing to do (he couldn't help but be hurt over Rodney's reaction, okay, yes, so maybe it was sort of out of the blue, but c'mon—all this time and Rodney didn't _notice_?) but he'd pretty much lost his best friend over it. A small, stiff-lipped part of his mind said it was better this way, that now he wouldn't have to act as Rodney's cheerful confidante over his every move with Jennifer. The rest of his mind told him he was full of shit and sent him down to his office to take back all the security details he'd turned over to Lorne. Thank god with the impending reception, there were no off-world missions scheduled at the moment.  
  
  
Major Lorne had raised an eyebrow when John volunteered to take over the previously delegated work. "Excuse me, sir? Are you feeling alright?"  
  
  
"Very funny, Lorne," John had grimaced. "Don't look a gift horse in the mouth. Run while you can."  
  
  
Lorne had grinned and tossed off a sketchy salute, backing out the door and leaving with alacrity.  
  
  
Woolsey had also been pleased at first. "I'm glad to see that you are according these proceedings the importance due them, Colonel Sheppard," he'd said when John dropped in his office to go over the latest changes in the plans. John nobly refrained from asking him if anyone really spoke like that outside of the Supreme Court or whether Woolsey had to take a special class in bureaucratese. For an instant, he'd pictured sharing the conversation with Rodney, knowing Rodney would appreciate the mild mocking of Woolsey. Until he remembered that he, John, was an idiot. By the fifth time John had interrupted Woolsey in some sort of Important Paperwork Moment, the persnickety little man had snapped that security was John's department and that he should _just take care of it_.  
  
  
Rodney was a creature of habits, so avoiding him wasn't all that hard, particularly since he seemed to be avoiding John as well. Fortunately, Atlantis was a big city and John was adept at not being found when he didn't want to be. And for once, Atlantis cooperated by not having some sort of major crisis that required her military commander and her chief science officer to forcibly interact to save everyone's lives. Which was a _good_ thing. Really. Right. He thought of the abandoned jumper modifications with the same sort of sigh that he made when he thought of Rodney.  
  
  
Ronon, as usual, had been blunt. "Something crawl up your ass and die?"  
  
  
"I'm fine," John had ground out through gritted teeth. "It's just this goddamned reception has me pulling my hair out."   
  
  
"Whatever you say, Sheppard," Ronon had said in that infuriating way of his, that implied he knew something about you that you hadn't figured out yet and that he found that fact amusing.  
  
  
John had shown up at Teyla's quarters to talk, only to find her unaccustomedly disheveled in appearance, dark circles under her eyes, holding a cranky Torren against her shoulder. Kanaan, wise man, was 'out'. "He's teething," she'd said by way of explanation, holding up a hard biscuit for Torren to gnaw on.  
  
  
"Isn't that a little early?" John vaguely remembered when his niece started teething and she had been several months older than Torren.   
  
  
"Athosian children seem to mature faster than the children of your people, John. Jennifer theorizes that there may have been genetic pressure for this due to the influence of the Wraith in our lives." Teyla had sounded as though if she had the Wraith collective in front of her at that moment, she would have been able to squeeze them by their throats with her bare hands until their itty bitty eyeballs popped out.  
  
  
Torren had begun to wail with impotent fury. John had hurried away to find a way of making a teething ring that did not involve Rodney. He also was not about to tell Teyla the hard cookies she was giving Torren were actually MilkBone Dog Biscuits. He did, however, make a mental list to check with the supply quartermaster and find out why the hell Milkbones had even made their way to Atlantis in the first place.  
  
  
Time did weird things in the intervening days—speeding up during the day, slowing to a crawl during boring meetings, coming to a complete stop at night for hours at a time, while John stared aimlessly at the ceiling of his room. Finally the night of the reception arrived. John delayed until the last minute overseeing the final preparations before he left to change into his dress blues. There in his quarters, he took his time changing his clothes. He took the crisp blue uniform out of its protective bag and laid it across the surface of his bed, peeling out of his BDUs and taking a quick shower, taking the time to shave as well. He slicked some gel through his hair and shrugged off the fact that it would still be partly wet when he entered the party. He returned to the main part of his quarters with a towel tucked around his waist. Crossing over to the dresser, he dropped the towel and pulled out a pair of black boxer briefs, taking out some black dress socks as well and tossing them on the bed.   
  
  
His skin was still a little damp when he pulled the light blue Air Force shirt on over his shoulders, buttoning it slowly. He slipped on the briefs, socks, then the uniform pants, hitching them up over his hips and carefully tucking in the shirttails before closing the fly and buckling the belt. He did up the cuffs next, and then slung the navy tie around his neck before heading back in front of the mirror to tie it properly. His mind flicked to the memory of the night he'd helped Rodney go through his wardrobe and the little fantasy he'd created about helping Rodney with the tie to his tuxedo. The face that stared back at him in the mirror was carefully neutral.  
  
  
When he put on the jacket, smoothing down the fabric before buttoning it up, he thought of the last time he'd worn it. Carson's funeral. It was impossible to think of that moment without thinking of Carson the clone as well, and how the more time that went by, the harder it was to remember that Carson _was_ a clone now, that the man he'd met when he first sat down in the Chair in Antarctica was really dead. From a goddamned exploding _tumor_ , of all things. It had taken some time for him to adjust to Carson-as-clone, but Rodney had accepted him as a friend right from the very beginning, treating him no differently than he would have done had the real Carson returned unexpectedly from the grave. Rodney had accepted Carson as he was...was it too much to hope that Rodney would at least be able to do the same for John one day?  
  
  
John shook his head. He was being extremely melancholy tonight. He should be glad that at least the occasion for wearing the dress blues tonight wasn't a funeral. The wreck of his relationship with Rodney didn't count. He sat on the edge of the bed to put on his dress shoes and then stood up and brushed imaginary lint off the sleeve of his uniform. He could delay no longer. It was time to go.  
  
  
It was a little bit of a culture shock to see his colleagues dressed in their finest as he entered the large reception hall. Ronon, as usual, caught his eye first, as the Runner towered over most people in the room. John did a little double-take when he saw that Ronon was wearing the same black cotton shirt and pinstriped pants that he'd worn to Patrick Sheppard's funeral and realized that it probably was the nicest outfit Ronon possessed. With his dreads pulled back and dressed almost entirely in black, John thought that Ronon might well be going for a civilized look, something to make Jennifer feel comfortable and also seem familiar, but it only succeeded in making him seem even more dangerous and alien. John thought Ronon looked like he would fit in very well with the Mafia tonight.   
  
  
Radek was astonishing in a powder blue tux in some sort of crushed velvet fabric with black trim and John was reassured that at least he still looked as rumpled as usual. With any luck, Radek could also be counted on to spike the punch with his tormack vodka too. John's eyes sought Rodney and slid over his form briefly, taking in the elegant tux with its subtle pin-striping of black on black, the neatly tied bow tie, the very dapper package that Rodney made as he stood next to Woolsey and the Teenon ambassador, hands flying in exposition as he spoke, waving a small cheese cube on a stick and causing the ambassador to flinch every time the food item approached his face. John very deliberately looked away.  
  
  
"Colonel."  
  
  
John turned to see Jennifer standing next to him, a slightly uncertain expression on her face. She was dressed in black, an attractive ensemble with a low cut neckline and little sleeves that capped her shoulders, accented in lace and ending mid-calf in an asymmetrical hemline. It went well with her blond coloring. The boots she'd chosen to go with them were all wrong however, soft leather bunching down her calves with a spiky heel. John found himself thinking she would have been much better off with a pair of pumps or open-toed heels and then wondered when the hell did he become so goddamned _gay_?   
  
  
"My, don't you look simply...well, fabulous." Jennifer smiled at him, lifting the drink in her hand to indicate the room at large. "I must admit, you made quite a stir on your entrance."  
  
  
John glanced around the room and noticed that several women were looking his way with an avaricious gleam in their eyes.  
  
  
"It's the uniform," John said stiffly. He scanned the room until he made eye contact with Lorne and then nodded briefly at him.  
  
  
"And the man inside it," Jennifer smiled once more. Her expression faded as John stared at her and then she said suddenly, "Colonel, are you mad with me for some reason?"  
  
  
John blinked and then shook off his sudden guilty conscience. "Not at all. Should I be?"  
  
  
Jennifer laughed, if a little bit self-consciously. "No, no, I just...well, I just can't shake off this feeling that you're less than pleased with me at the moment."  
  
  
"All your imagination," John said smoothly. "So, are you having a good time this evening?"  
  
  
Jennifer's eyes unconsciously slid over towards the refreshment table, but since Ronon and Rodney both happened to be there at the same time, it was impossible to say which one she sought. She swung her gaze back around to John. "Yes, as a matter of fact, I am. I didn't think I would at first, but I really am enjoying myself. Mr. Woolsey certainly seems to be in his element, doesn't he?"  
  
  
John glanced over at Woolsey in his tux, chatting comfortably with the Teenon contingent and had to agree.   
  
  
"And it's nice to see everyone all dressed up and enjoying themselves for a change," Jennifer continued, smiling out at the crowd. The person in charge of music started up another song on the player and John recognized the opening cords of Linda Ronstadt's _Different Drum_. John realized that Jennifer probably hadn't even been born when the song was originally released and he suddenly felt very old.  
  
  
John caught sight of Teyla dancing with Kanaan, smiling up into his face, her body a picture of elegance in a tight leather bodice and flowing, diaphanous skirt. Kanaan was a lucky man. John only hoped he knew it. If he didn't, John was prepared to beat his brains in.  
  
  
Jennifer seemed to read his thoughts. "Don't Teyla and Kanaan make such a handsome couple? I'm so glad that they got to come tonight. Teyla has been feeling the strain lately of being a mother and part of your team, Colonel."  
  
  
"If she needs some time off..." John began, suddenly guilty.  
  
  
"Oh no, no, that's not what I meant!" Jennifer's young face looked stricken. "I only meant it's nice to see Teyla and Kanaan get a little alone time, you know?"  
  
  
"Who's got the kid?" John said, by way of calming Jennifer down. He wished he could somehow unobtrusively loosen his tie.  
  
  
"Miko volunteered. I don't think she really wanted to come tonight." Jennifer was frowning slightly as she watched the dancers. John knew exactly how Miko felt. "Teyla was asking about you earlier—I think she was under the impression you wanted to talk to her. Do you ever want children of your own, Colonel?"  
  
  
Jennifer's question came from out of nowhere. "What?" he stammered. "Uh, no. Well, I've not really thought about it, but no. I mean, high risk profession and all."  
  
  
Jennifer looked thoughtful "That's understandable, and even commendable, but for that very reason alone, if you want children, you should act on that desire, you know? If nothing else, the Pegasus galaxy has taught me that you shouldn't put off things."  
  
  
"Rodney wants a family," John heard himself say and then mentally kicked his ass all around the reception hall.   
  
  
Unexpectedly, Jennifer laughed. "Rodney _has_ a family. The events on Talos made that perfectly clear to me. Whoever gets Rodney gets all of you."  
  
  
That shouldn't have made John feel warm and fuzzy inside but it did and that just confused the hell out of him. He really, really wished for some of Radek's finest right now. "Rodney wants _kids_ ," John tried to clarify.  
  
  
"To pass his genes on, yes, I know," Jennifer said lightly, as though this were not of major importance. "A big difference from wanting children themselves."   
  
  
"You're really good with kids," John said, trying to be generous.  
  
  
Jennifer sighed. "I wanted to be a pediatrician. Not much call for that here, huh?"  
  
  
John found himself looking curiously at Jennifer as a person for the first time all evening. "I'm sure you and Rodney will be very happy together," he said in his 'making-pleasant-with-the-natives' voice.  
  
  
He had no idea what gave him away; he thought his comment had been blandly conversational, but Jennifer's eyes suddenly got very wide and her mouth formed a perfect little 'oh' of surprise.  
  
  
"Colonel..." she began.  
  
  
"I didn't say anything," John said abruptly, unable to tear his eyes off Jennifer's startled face.   
  
  
"I didn't ask anything," Jennifer said desperately, a look of real panic in her eyes. "I mean, this is me, not asking here." She looked suddenly miserable and then dropped her eyes down to her stupid, pointy-toed boots. "I can't speak for Rodney, but I _was_ struck by something all during his experiences with the alien parasite. Whenever Rodney would get upset, he would call out for you. It was heartbreaking to hear him really. I was _right there_ , but it was you he wanted." She flashed her eyes upward abruptly. "You might want to think about that, Colonel."  
  
  
And with that, Jennifer turned and slipped into the crowd.  
  
  
John watched her go, and then turned to make small talk with the person nearest to him, mingling in the crowd with an ease taught by long, boring hours at functions held by his father to impress shareholders or entertain guests. He chatted with his equivalent of the Teenon party, made nice to Woolsey and the ambassadors, helped the staff carry a heavy platter of food to an already groaning table and generally cast a discerning eye about the room, looking for trouble. He was able to keep on the move, avoid Teyla and any invitations to dance, pleading duty.  
  
  
Somewhere around midnight, he found himself watching Rodney and Jennifer dance. To his eye, they looked like they were enjoying themselves, though neither looked entirely comfortable. The music ended and he watched them just a moment too long, looking up to find Rodney staring straight at him. They must have held each other's gaze for at least ten seconds before John pivoted on his heel and marched over to Lorne. "You're in charge," he said, after getting Lorne's update. Lorne was too much the consummate professional to give an audible sigh or roll his eyes. John made his escape.  
  
  
A few minutes later, John stood on a nearby balcony, leaning on the rail. He'd contemplated removing his shoes but the uniform code would only let him go so far as to loosen his tie. The two moons above filled the night sky with an unreal light and trailed two shimmering beams of moonlight in the water far below. He could hear the music from the reception through the open balcony windows and he wondered if Rodney was dancing with Jennifer now. His whole conversation with Jennifer had been disturbing and he wondered how he could have exposed himself so badly. John knew his absence would be noted, but he just could not bring himself to care. God, his life was ricocheting out of control—just one stupid mistake after another with none of the perks that went with them.   
  
  
The swoosh of the doors behind him did not surprise him. It seemed inevitable. What made him turn his head and glance back over his shoulder was Rodney's voice asking "Is this dance taken?"  
  
  
****  
  
  
"Is this dance taken?"  
  
  
When John turned his head and looked up at Rodney, his eyes wide with as yet undisguised shock, Rodney wondered for a moment if he'd made a terrible mistake. After all, they'd both spent the intervening days since their... well, their _kiss_... studiously avoiding each other, so perhaps approaching the man on the moon-lit balcony and asking him to dance wasn't quite the most expected approach. Or the most subtle. But then again, when had Rodney ever been subtle? He'd always thought subtlety to be a vastly overrated skill – far better to simply know your own mind and then act accordingly.  
  
  
 _Know your own mind_ , Rodney snorted softly to himself as the words echoed in his head. Now, if only _that_ was a simple matter. But what could ever be simple when it came to John? Even after over four years of living and fighting side by side, it would appear that there were still many things Rodney didn't know about John. Because John's kiss, not to put too fine a point on it, had shocked the living daylights out of Rodney. Never in a million years would Rodney have ever imagined that Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard would kiss Dr. Rodney McKay. Such a thing was _surely_ impossible. But apparently not.  
  
  
Revelation was a truly wondrous thing and Rodney didn't think it was something he would ever get used to, no matter how long he lived or how many times he was graced with its enlightenment. He could still recall the first time he'd experienced the surge of perfect understanding, when everything finally shifted from messy confusion into flawless clarity. Even as a child, he'd still known that what he'd experienced was something special, a sentiment which had only grown stronger when his science fair project had attracted the attention of the American CIA. But this revelation was, without doubt, the most profound he'd ever undergone precisely because it brought into focus a problem of which he'd not even previously been aware. Not even the exponential growth of his higher cognitive functions he'd been subjected to after his encounter with the Ancient ascension machine could possibly compare to his most recent realization. And, perhaps surprising enough in itself, the revelation did not revolve around the fact that John had kissed him, but rather around the fact that Rodney had _welcomed_ his kiss.  
  
  
John was Rodney's friend – his _best_ friend. Rodney had accepted that somewhat unlikely fact years ago and had acted accordingly ever since. Therefore, it was only natural to find that it was John to whom he turned when he needed to kick back and relax, John he relied on when things went all to hell and he was so tired he could hardly see straight, and John he called out to when he was in real danger of losing himself completely to the madness that was Pegasus. Rodney had never stopped to question the real reason behind all these things, he'd simply put it down to their friendship. Sure, he supposed that if he were forced he'd have to admit that he loved John, but, as the man himself had said, only in the way that 'a friend loves another friend'.   
  
  
Yet a friend didn't kiss another friend the way John had kissed Rodney. Nor did a friend return the kiss the way Rodney had done instinctively; certainly not if friends was all that they were. And, once the idea had taken root in Rodney's mind – that perhaps he and John weren't friends, but actually much more than that – everything else about their relationship had suddenly made sense. The revelation, as always, had been awesome; all the confusing, conflicting things that Rodney had never truly understood about John's behavior, or his response to it, suddenly made sense. He and John _together_ made sense.  
  
  
And so here he was, standing in the moonlight, dressed to the nines in the brand new tuxedo Jeannie had practically forced him to buy on their shopping trip in the wake of the Wallis incident, waiting for John. It seemed oddly appropriate somehow, that Jeannie, whose comment had started Rodney's entire quest, should also have an impact on its conclusion. A hopefully more successful conclusion than Rodney's earlier misplaced efforts with Katie and Jennifer. And yet, even as the nerves twisted knots in his gut, Rodney simply knew that this encounter wouldn't end that way. Because _this_ was John – who Rodney knew and, perhaps more importantly, who knew _him_.  
  
  
Focusing back in on the present, Rodney noticed that John had straightened and turned completely to face him, the initial surprise on John's face clearing almost instantaneously to be replaced by the blank mask that was all too familiar.   
  
  
"What do you want, McKay?" he asked flatly, his use of Rodney's surname making Rodney wince.  
  
  
Rodney swallowed, his throat suddenly tight as the import of the moment made itself known. This was it; he mustn't screw this up. He took a deep breath and took a few steps towards John. "Dance with me," he repeated his request, holding a hand out towards John in invitation. "I want you to dance with me."  
  
  
John's blank expression segued into confusion once again and Rodney took some small measure of hope in the fact that he'd obviously caught John so completely unawares. With any luck he could use John's unpreparedness to his advantage. Steeling himself, Rodney moved forward again, intent on reaching out to John and drawing him into his arms, just had John had done to him so many times during their dance lessons.  
  
  
Rodney was not really one to notice such things, but even he couldn't help but be aware of just how good John looked in his dress blues. The crisp lines of the uniform drew attention to John's lean body with its latent strength; it suited him even more than the black he'd been wearing that night. Not that John hadn't looked like sex on legs in that outfit, but the uniform was different - more truthful somehow. Because the uniform represented a very essential part of John – his commitment, his loyalty and his bravery. All of which John had shown time and time again – and not just for Atlantis, but for Rodney too. And, at the end of the day, _that_ was what mattered. Not what Rodney thought he wanted or believed he should try to attain – but what he _did_ ; what they _both_ did. From that first week in the city when Rodney had been prepared to sacrifice himself to save John and everyone else, to just a few scant weeks ago when it was John's name Rodney had cried out in the suffocating bewilderment he'd experienced as the alien parasite wracked havoc in his brain.  
  
  
 _Are you sure about your intentions?_ When Ronon had first asked that, Rodney had been confused. Because, of course he was. Why wouldn't he be? Jennifer was intelligent and beautiful, with a personality as bright as her smile; Rodney would surely be insane not to want that, especially after Jennifer had expressed her interest in him first. But since that kiss, his eyes had been opened and he could finally see what it seemed like Ronon had seen all along – that it wasn't Jennifer Rodney truly wanted, but John.  
  
  
However, it would seem that the object of his desires was not so keen on the idea. John had once again overcome his surprise and was now looking at Rodney with a cold expression. He shook his head slowly. "I don't think so, McKay," he said, his voice tight with unleashed anger.  
  
  
If Rodney didn't know John as well as he did, he would have been put off by John's rejection. But Rodney _did_ know John – well enough to know that there was always something more to his displays of emotion. Indeed, more often than not the negative emotions were also directed squarely at John himself; self-sacrifice being something with which John was far too familiar in Rodney's opinion.  
  
  
Rodney steeled himself, determined not to be dissuaded. He reminded himself of the conclusions he'd reached in the light of his revelation – no matter what he might be observing at the moment, nothing could now negate his previous observations. He took comfort from the fact that the only model which accurately predicted those observables was the one that had John loving Rodney as more than just a friend as its central premise.  
  
  
Judging from John's unyielding expression that he wasn't going to get anywhere trying to talk to the man, he decided to take a leaf out of John's book and act. Recalling their last dance lesson he took a deep breath and tried to channel his regard for John into his actions –like John had said, it was all about attitude. If this was some cheesy rom-com, Rodney knew that the sultry sound of Norah Jones would probably start floating in from the reception room right about now. But the reality of Pegasus was about as far from a chick flick as one could get, so he supposed he should just be grateful that the current music wasn't some of Radek's decidedly questionable eurobeat techno tracks.  
  
  
As the opening strains of some slow song drifted out onto the balcony, Rodney closed the distance between himself and John. John's body was stiff and taut in his arms, but he didn't move away when Rodney gently placed his hands on John's hips and tried to get him to move with the easy rhythm of the song. Apparently there was no moving John, if anything he became even more rigid at Rodney's touch, tension clearly emanating from him in waves, his eyes shuttered and averted. However, Rodney was not deterred – the simple pleasure of holding John so strong it was sufficient to convince Rodney once and for all that _this_ was how it was meant to be.  
  
  
He'd danced with Jennifer before he'd followed John out onto the reception room's balcony. He hadn't intended to, but she'd approached him looking so pretty with her bright smile and shining hair that Rodney found himself helpless to resist her soft request. But she'd felt all wrong in his arms – too small and too fragile somehow. But this, standing here with John, tall, dark and strong in his arms, _this_ was right.  
  
  
"John, please" he said softly, slowly moving his right hand up from John's hip to gently cup his face. "Please."  
  
  
At Rodney's entreaty something in John seemed to finally break. It was as if all at once the rigidity completely left his body and he simply melted into Rodney's embrace.  
  
  
"Rodney," John said, the name muffled as John turned his face into Rodney's hand as he spoke. "I... I..."  
  
  
"Shh, it's okay," Rodney whispered, shivering slightly at the feeling of John's lips moving against the sensitive skin of his palm. "I know; I understand now."   
  
  
John's head moved back round at Rodney's words, staring at Rodney with his eyes wide and his expression one of total bewilderment. For a moment Rodney was worried that he was going to try to pull back, so much so that Rodney decided that it was time to take yet another page out of John's book. Rodney's hand was still gently cupping the side of John's face, the skin smooth beneath his fingertips indicating that John must have shaved just prior to coming to the reception. It was any easy thing for Rodney to simply slide his hand further round so that he could clasp the back of John's neck, urging him forward so that Rodney could press their mouths together.  
  
  
This kiss was soft at first, but just like their first kiss, the sense of utter rightness of it swept through Rodney's body like a wave. He felt John shudder in his arms at the first touch of their lips, but Rodney held on tight. He wrapped his left arm securely around John's waist, holding him even closer, and then opened his mouth to deepen the kiss. He swept the tip of his tongue along the seam of John's lips, begging entry, and felt a thrill go through him when John's mouth opened almost immediately in response. Rodney felt his excitement ratchet up another notch as he thrust his tongue into the heat of John's mouth, his dick stirring in his pants as John's tongue came forward to meet his.  
  
  
Thought ended then and soon there was nothing but the taste of John's mouth, the feel of John's body pressing hard against his own, and the muted sounds of their kisses. At some point, John's arms came up and he was now holding Rodney tightly in return, one arm banded across Rodney's upper back and the other gripping Rodney's left hip. The heat between them continued to build as Rodney increased their contact yet further by pressing a thigh between John's legs, groaning as he felt the hard evidence of John's arousal. John moaned into Rodney's mouth and started to rub his cock against Rodney's thigh. Rodney's own cock responded in kind and he couldn't prevent himself from grinding himself into John's hip. His hands started moving downwards of their own volition, skimming down the back of John's uniform jacket so that he could cup John's ass and encourage John to thrust even harder against him.  
  
  
"God, Rodney," John groaned, throwing his head back and bucking his hips forward hard and fast.  
  
  
Rodney found himself in complete agreement with the sentiment as he started to mouth and suck at John's neck. It had been so damn long since he'd felt like this, if indeed he ever had. He couldn't seem to recall at present, but surely none of his previous encounters, with either gender, had either the pure molten heat or the utter sense of rightness that he felt at this moment. His cock was so hard it was aching, the need to strip John naked and just fuck him into oblivion becoming almost impossible to resist.  
  
  
"Okay, okay, okay," Rodney panted, trying desperately to gather his wits. "We've got to stop." Stopping was the last thing he wanted to do, but something was telling him that it was what they had to do.  
  
  
John made a soft sound of protest at Rodney's remark, leaning forward to kiss Rodney once more. He moved his own hands down Rodney's back and then slipped them under Rodney's jacket. The feel of John's hands so close to his skin, with only the thin fabric of his dress shirt between them, made Rodney feel almost giddy. He was just about to reach up to start undoing the buttons on the front of John's uniform, when the muffled sounds of laughter and voices suddenly impinged on his consciousness. The reality of exactly where they were and what they were doing hit hard.  
  
  
"John, we must – we're... _shit_... we're on a public balcony – _anyone_ could come out here."  
  
  
The words seemed to get through to John. He jerked backwards, pulling himself almost violently out of Rodney's arms. He was panting, just as Rodney was, his mouth red and wet from their kisses and his erection clearly visible through his close cut uniform trousers. It took every ounce of Rodney's self-control not to reach out and pull John bodily to him once more. He was right on the edge and it wouldn't take long; he could join their mouths, slide his leg between John's once more and just let John ride his thigh until they both came. He took another deep breath, trying to work out the best next course of action – preferably the one that would lead to him and John being alone and naked in his quarters in the shortest possible time.  
  
  
Glancing over at John, Rodney saw that it looked like he was going to bolt at any minute. He was standing looking towards the balcony doors, his chest heaving and his arms held rigidly by his sides with his hands clenched into fists.   
  
  
"Side exit!" Rodney suddenly exclaimed, snapping his fingers in excitement as the idea flashed brightly across his mind.   
  
  
John turned back to Rodney at his words. "Wha-" he started to say.  
  
  
"Come on," Rodney interrupted him. "We can get out over here – no need to even go back in there. You've said your goodbyes already, right?" Without waiting for a response, Rodney reached out and caught hold of one of John's arms, using it to pull him over to the far side of the balcony.  
  
  
John was unwilling to be moved at first, his arm heavy in Rodney's grip and his steps slow and reluctant. "Rodney, I don't think tha-"  
  
  
"Shh," Rodney silenced John for the second time that evening by the simple expediency of turning around and kissing him. John relaxed almost at once, opening his mouth and pulling Rodney tightly to him as he kissed him back almost desperately. For long moments Rodney lost track of everything in their kiss. It was only when he felt John's hands burrow beneath his jacket again that he recalled his primary objective. He forced himself to pull back, making sure not to let go for John this time. "Hold that thought," he gasped, turning quickly before he could be tempted to take John's mouth again. As he started to make his way to the side door, this time he had a much more agreeable John in tow.  
  
  
There was a second doorway at the far end of the balcony and it led directly out into the corridor. Rodney was relieved to find hallway empty as they stepped back inside the city. The sounds of the reception could still be heard, but as it was well past midnight, Rodney knew that their disappearance wasn't going to be noticed. Especially because he'd seen just how much tormack vodka Radek had decanted specifically for the evening. Added to that was the fact that he and John hadn't even left the reception together – John had made his escape onto the balcony well before Rodney had managed to track him down out there. So, they were safe; there was no reason for them not to finally be together, not now that they were both _finally_ on the same page.  
  
  
Still holding tightly onto John's arm, Rodney moved quickly through the corridors towards the transporter. Their steps were in perfect synch and Rodney once again experienced a dizzying surge of utter rightness at the situation. He could feel the heat emanating from John's body and had to work hard to keep no more than just one hand clasped around John's forearm. What he wanted was more – _so_ much more. He wanted John naked, moaning in his arms as their cocks ground wetly together. Or he wanted John on his back, breathless and needy while Rodney prepared John's body for his cock. Or Rodney wanted to be on his knees, John's cock pumping thickly in and out of his mouth while Rodney jacked himself to completion in time with John's thrusts until John spilled himself down Rodney's throat. Rodney took a shaky breath, not daring to look at John, afraid that if he did, he'd lose what little control he had and simply push John up against the bulkhead wall and rut against him until they both came.   
  
  
After what seemed like at least a decade, they finally reached the end of the corridor. Rodney waved his hand over the crystal at the entrance of the transporter and ushered John into the small cubicle ahead of him. It was almost painful to have to let John go and Rodney could only hope that the loss of physical contact wouldn't lead to John withdrawing again. However, as the doors to the transporter slid closed and Rodney turned away from John so he could press the button which would take them to the living quarters, he found that his fears had been unfounded.   
  
  
As soon as he'd selected their destination, Rodney felt John move up close behind him, pressing his body into Rodney's as his arms came up to grip hard on Rodney's hips. Rodney let himself be pushed forward into the transporter's wall as John ground his erection into Rodney's ass. Tilting his head to the side, Rodney turned his face towards John so that they could kiss, letting out a moan of pleasure as John immediately fulfilled his desire and melded their mouths together.  
  
  
The swoosh of the opening doors brought reality back down on to them, but this time John didn't jerk away. Rather, he slid his hands up from Rodney's hips to his shoulders and, very deliberately, kissed Rodney again. Rodney groaned and opened his mouth to deepen the kiss, pushing his ass backwards so that he could feel John's cock press hard into him once more. This time, John did pull back, but it was only to pull Rodney out of the transporter.  
  
  
Rodney had to almost run to keep up with John's long stride, part of him wondering just how John was able to walk quite so quickly with an erection. However, if it got them to their quarters faster, there was no way Rodney was going to question John's methods. They reached Rodney's quarters first and, without waiting for Rodney to activate the door, John overrode the locking mechanism with his gene.  
  
  
"Hey," Rodney started to complain as his door slid easily open, but John merely crossed over the threshold and then reached back to pull Rodney in after him. As he was gathered close to John once more, Rodney decided that perhaps that wasn't really something worthy of complaint after all.   
  
  
"Show-off," he muttered into John's mouth, turning John's laugh into a moan of pleasure as he reached down to palm his cock. John bucked forward convulsively into Rodney's hand and Rodney suddenly realized that clothing was no longer mandatory.  
  
  
"Naked," he gasped, breaking their kiss and reaching out for John's tie. "We can finally get naked."  
  
  
John blinked at him for a moment, his eyes wide and glazed with lust, but then understanding dawned and he grinned in agreement.   
  
  
It turned out that formal wear was a lot more difficult to get out of than one might expect. Still, they were both sufficiently motivated and soon the floor of Rodney's quarters was littered with dress blues and pin stripes. If kissing John before had been amazing, doing so when there was no barrier between them was utter perfection. Any fears Rodney might have harbored about his physical imperfections were burned away by the unadulterated heat in John's eyes as he looked at Rodney.  
  
  
"Rodney," John whispered, reaching out a shaking hand to touch Rodney's chest. "God, _Rodney_."   
  
  
Rodney jerked and moaned as John's hands slowly started to explore his body. They stood together in the middle of Rodney's quarters, just touching. John trailed both his hands over Rodney's pecs before moving down to swirl his thumbs over Rodney's nipples. Rodney gasped at the sensation, causing John to lean forward so he could take one of the sensitive buds into his mouth. Rodney buried his hands into John's hair as John's tongue circled and laved first one nipple and then the other. His cock was leaking copiously now, his hips bucking forward, thrusting into the empty air, desperate for some kind of friction.   
  
  
When the sensations became almost painful, Rodney dragged John's mouth back up to his and kissed him hard. The movement caused their bodies to touch everywhere from chest to thigh. John's body was hard and hot against Rodney, there wasn't a spare ounce of flesh on him and he felt like some unearthly alloy of hot steel and hard satin. The hair on his chest rubbed deliciously against Rodney's already sensitized nipples as they moved together, thrusting desperately into one another as they kissed.  
  
  
Rodney broke the kiss, gasping for air, and then looked down at where their bodies were touching. The sensations alone were almost overwhelming, and he was hard pressed not to come instantly at the sight of his and John's cocks rubbing against each other. The tips of both their dicks were leaking pre-come constantly, and their movements against one another was spreading it down their lengths, easing the friction to an exquisite slide of skin on skin. John reached down and around to fill his hands with the cheeks of Rodney's ass and press their erections even closer together. They were moving in tandem, each thrusting up and then pulling down in turn. Their cocks moved against one another and against the other's belly, the position of their bodies creating a hot slick channel into which they could both thrust.  
  
  
Rodney loved the feeling of John's hands clenching on his ass, urging him to fuck himself harder and faster against John. He hooked his own arms against John's shoulders and then leaned forward to kiss John, his tongue thrusting in and out of John's mouth with the same cadence of his hips. John moaned around Rodney's tongue and the speed of his thrusts started to grow increasingly erratic. Suddenly his hands bit down hard on Rodney's ass and he threw his head back, hips bucking uncontrollably as he spewed is release over them both. The feel of John's come spurting hot and thick onto his skin and the sight of such utter ecstasy on John's face pushed Rodney over the edge. With a shout of his own, Rodney felt his own cock pulse repeatedly with the force of his climax.  
  
  
Still wrapped around each other and breathing hard, they staggered over to Rodney's bed and tumbled down onto it. Rodney landed on his back with John sprawled, sticky and sated, on top of him. It felt good; the sensation of John's body weight was comforting, ever if it did make it even more difficult to catch his breath. After a couple of hazy minutes, John pushed himself up on his elbows, looking down at Rodney with a strange expression on his face – part wonder, part disbelief, and part something Rodney found himself unable to name.   
  
  
"Hey," John said softly.  
  
  
"Hey," Rodney replied, lifting up to kiss John.  
  
  
John kissed him back gently and then moved over to lie alongside Rodney, shifting so that he was lying on his side with a leg and an arm still draped over Rodney. With John's body wrapped tightly around his own and the pleasure of their climax still fizzling along his synapses, Rodney felt sleep starting to tug on the edges of his consciousness. He knew that he should probably force himself to get up and get a towel or else they were likely to find themselves irrevocably stuck together. John made a grunt of protest as Rodney reluctantly pulled himself out of his arms.  
  
  
"Wher're you goin?" John mumbled sleepily, a frown creasing his brow even though his eyes were more than halfway closed.  
  
  
"Nowhere," Rodney replied softly, leaning forward to press a kiss to John's mouth before moving quickly to his bathroom. He quickly cleaned himself off first and then returned to the main room with a damp cloth so he could do the same for John. John's eyes were now completely closed, but still his arms came up to try to catch Rodney as he wiped the cloth over his skin. Once done, Rodney let the cloth fall unnoticed to the floor and happily allowed himself to be pulled back down onto the bed and into John's arms.   
  
  
He smiled as John proceeded to wrap himself completely around him once more. He felt safe and protected and exactly where he was supposed to be. "Go to sleep," he said, murmuring the words into John's skin. "I'm not going anywhere."  
  
  
****  
  
  
As was not unusual, Rodney awoke to the sound of the radio on his bedside table chirping. Without looking what he was doing, he started to reach out a hand to grab it on automatic pilot. However, what _was_ unusual was the fact that he didn't seem to be able to move his arm. Grunting in surprise, Rodney opened his eyes to behold the sight of John Sheppard lying asleep beside him, his back pressed up tight against Rodney's chest and his hands resting firmly over Rodney's, which in turn were wrapped securely around John. As memories of just how their evening had ended started to filter into his consciousness, Rodney felt himself start to grin. He'd been right – _this_ was how it was supposed to be.  
  
  
The sound of his radio beeping again drew his attention back to the reason for him being awake. Moving slowly so as not to wake John, Rodney managed to free one of his hands from John's grasp. He reached out for his headset successfully this time, bringing it to his ear and tapping it on.  
  
  
"McKay," he said softly.  
  
  
"Dr McKay, this is Felicity Kensit. I'm sorry to bother you, sir, but we're getting an odd reading from the life support and, despite running all the usual diagnostics, we can't pinpoint the cause of the problem..."  
  
  
Rodney sighed as she continued to babble away in his ear and mentally cursed Radek for not being the one on call tonight. He didn't know quite how the Czech managed it, but there never seemed to be any emergencies during _his_ nights. Glancing at his clock he saw that it had just gone three, so he'd been asleep for less than an hour. "Okay, okay, I get the picture," Rodney interrupted as he eased himself out of bed and padded over to his dresser to grab a uniform. "I'm on my way; McKay out."   
  
  
He was dressed in no time, grabbing his laptop and datapad so that he'd be prepared for whatever it was he found down in the control center. He paused for a moment to look down at the still sleeping John, allowing the sight to calm him, before rushing out the door. With any luck he'd be back before John even realized he'd gone.  
  
  
****  
  
  
"Why is nothing ever simple?" Rodney grumbled to himself several hours later as he made his way back towards his quarters. "And why do imbeciles always believe that they can fix their own mistakes instead of getting the experts to set things straight? I ought to have the whole lot of them shot." Naturally, it had taken him less than five minutes to figure out what the problem was with the city's life support systems and then the best part of three hours to rectify the situation. Now all he wanted to do was shed his uniform, crawl back into bed with John, and sleep for about ten years.   
  
  
Although, the thought of John still in his bed, all warm and naked and sleep-rumpled... perhaps the sleeping for ten years bit could come just a tad later. Rodney grinned to himself at the image before shaking his head, wondering just how a genius of his caliber could have missed something of this magnitude for almost five years. Well, at least now he had figured it out. And it was all going to be just fine – his pre-dawn conversation at the commissary with a smiling Jennifer, both of them on much needed coffee breaks from working on separate emergencies, had helped see to that.  
  
  
He was just rounding the final corner which led to his quarters when he ran slap bang into someone coming quickly in the opposite direction.   
  
  
"Hey, watch where you're going!" Rodney yelped, looking up to glare at whoever it was. "Oh, it's you."  
  
  
"McKay," Ronon said. "You're up early – coming running with us this morning?"  
  
  
"Yeah, right," Rodney snorted. "Like that's going to happen. And I'm not up early; I am, in fact, up late."  
  
  
"Is there trouble?" Ronon asked, his hand already reaching for his ever-present energy pistol.  
  
  
"Oh, please; put the gun away, Conan," Rodney said, rolling his eyes at Ronon's instinctive need to try to solve every problem by force. "It was a moron-inspired technical glitch – besides which, it's all taken care of now."  
  
  
"So you're free to come running with Sheppard and me, then," Ronon said, smiling wolfishly at Rodney.  
  
  
"Ah, that'd be a no," Rodney replied firmly. "I do more than enough running on missions as it is, I do not need to spend my free time doing it as well." Suddenly Rodney realized that Ronon must be on his way to John's quarters to pick him up – quarters which, Rodney knew for a fact, would be empty. "Uh, you going to get John?" he asked a little nervously.  
  
  
Ronon just looked at him speculatively and then raised an eyebrow. "Why d'you ask, McKay? Do you know where he is?"  
  
  
"Oh, well... I... I... um..." Rodney felt his cheeks start to heat up and cursed his complete and utter inability to lie.  
  
  
To his surprise, Ronon just laughed. "Good," he said, reaching out to clap Rodney hard on the shoulder. "It's about time – glad you finally figured it out."  
  
  
"I...I..." Rodney continued to splutter as Ronon laughed some more. "Oh, alright, fine," he snapped at last, smart enough to know when he'd lost an argument. "You were right and I was wrong – you'd better enjoy the feeling while it lasts 'cause it's not likely to ever happen again."  
  
  
"Oh, I will, McKay," Ronon replied, finally getting himself under control. "I will."  
  
  
Rodney rolled his eyes and started to head down the corridor once more to his quarters.  
  
  
"Oh, and tell Sheppard I'm giving him this morning off, but I expect to see him on time tomorrow," Ronon called after him, the amusement still painfully obvious in his voice.  
  
  
Rodney chose ignored him – after all, he had much more important things to think about now. John was waiting for him.  
  
  
****  
  
  
John considered himself to be a light sleeper. There were only a few occasions when this didn't hold true. If he was injured for instance, doped up in the infirmary on drugs, though even then he struggled uneasily in the grip of Morpheus, plagued by unpleasant memories and haunted by disturbing visions. He'd also been known to be practically comatose after pulling a 30 plus hour duty shift, or following a day of hard physical labor. He could be pretty hard to rouse on those occasions.  
  
  
Or immediately after amazing sex.   
  
  
He awoke with a start, realizing that something was 'not right' immediately but taking several long seconds to process where he was and what he was doing there. When the memory struck him, the shock was like a bolt of electricity and he jerked upright in Rodney's bed.  
  
  
 _Rodney's_ bed. _Oh fuck._  
  
  
What the hell had he done? What had he been thinking? Well, obviously, he had not been thinking, or at least not with his _brains_. He pulled his knees into his chest and sat naked under Rodney's sheets, cradling his head in his hands and resting his elbows on his knees.  
  
  
After a moment, he lifted his head, conscious of the silence in the room. Rodney was obviously not here. _Fuck._  
  
  
He glanced at the aggressive readout of the small beside clock. In accusing, red flashing numbers, the clock posted the time. 3:10 am. Where was Rodney?  
  
  
Rodney either had a late-night emergency or else he'd bolted and was hoping desperately John would be out of his quarters when he returned. John supposed that he could radio in and see if there was some sort of problem, though there was no good reason for him to do so if he hadn't been notified about anything in the first place. Though it was certainly possible that Rodney had been called out on some crisis of which John had yet to be informed, it seemed highly coincidental. No, Rodney must have freaked out and left.   
  
  
This was all John's fault. God, he was such a fucking _bastard_. Rodney had come to him for help in wooing Jennifer and John had turned it into a little private indulgence-fest of his own, purposely winding Rodney up over the last few weeks until what happened between them last night was practically inevitable. Christ. Rodney had questionable people skills at the best of times, John should have realized that he was playing with fire—imagining himself touching Rodney, picturing the two of them together, staging a seduction scene on the balcony the night of The Kiss...  
  
  
John groaned and slapped his forehead with the heel of his hand. There had to be a special level in Hell reserved for the likes of him, people who took advantage of their best friends.   
  
  
_It takes two to tango_. A calmer portion of his mind tried to speak rationally to him. _Yeah? Well the cards are stacked in your favor if you're the one teaching the tango in the first place_. In self-loathing, he threw back the covers and swung his feet out of Rodney's bed. Realizing it was too dark to find his clothes, John thought about lights and they slowly came up to a tolerable range. With a sigh, he rolled out of Rodney's bed and began sorting through the tangle of their clothing, trying not to envision a tangle of a different kind and the flash-point heat of heat that had ignited between them just a few hours earlier.  
  
  
He gave a mental shudder at the thought of running into someone in the hallway as he left Rodney's quarters, disheveled and obviously having stripped out of his uniform and put it back on after picking it up off the floor. Whatever repercussions came from this night, he certainly deserved them. _Christ_! Pissed with himself, he slammed his fist into the nearest wall, causing one of the pictures on it to skew. Shaking out bruised knuckles, he hastened to straighten the frame, grateful it had not fallen to the floor and shattered. That would have been hard to explain.   
  
  
He had to get out of here. _Now._  
  
  
There was no solace to be found in his own quarters either. Stripping off his uniform again, he stepped into the shower, setting the temperature as hot as he could bear it and the spray to a needle-sharp consistency. He stood in the water a long time, letting it pound down on his neck and shoulders, washing away the scent of Rodney on his skin, the smell of sex on his body, the feel of Rodney's hands touching him.  
  
  
Toweling off roughly, he crawled naked into his own bed, cognizant of the coolness of the sheets, unwarmed by any human flesh recently. It was depressing. He lay in the bed with the sheets pulled over him, staring at the ceiling and listening to the sound of the sea through the open windows.   
  
  
Sleep had seemed unthinkable when he lay down, but somehow it overcame him anyway. The grey dawn of morning crept in on his consciousness, gradually pulling him to a state of wakefulness. He glanced at the watch on his wrist and realized that Ronon would be looking for him shortly. God, this day was going to suck.  
  
  
Scrubbing his face with his hands, he dragged himself out of bed and staggered into the bathroom, washing his face in cold water in an attempt to shock himself awake and he was dispassionately putting toothpaste on his toothbrush when the door chime rang. Toothbrush in mouth, he slipped on a navy plush bathrobe and headed over to the door to greet Ronon, fully prepared to accept the teasing over being late.  
  
  
He was astonished to find Rodney standing impatiently in front of his door when it opened.  
  
  
"Ronon said to tell you to take the day off but that he expects you tomorrow at the usual time," Rodney said without preamble, pushing his way past John and flopping down on his bed without ceremony. He draped an arm over his eyes as he lay on his back on John's bed, booted feet still on the floor. "God, what a night. I've just spent hours trying to fix someone else's 'fix' when if they had only just called me in the first place..." he trailed off, either lost in thought or starting to doze off. He lay in silence, John mesmerized by the slow rise and fall of his chest.   
  
  
John was forced to swallow his toothpaste in order to speak.  
  
  
"Rodney..." he began carefully.  
  
  
Rodney lifted his arm off his face and pushed himself up on one elbow.  
  
  
"Okay, hear me out. I've got to say this before I lose my nerve here, see, I think Ronon knows. Okay, to be honest, I _know_ Ronon knows. About us, I mean. Only I can't think how, because I didn't say anything, I only asked him if he was on his way to meet you for a run and I can't think of anything more innocuous than that, only somehow Ronon made the leap from that simple question to 'oh yeah, we went at it like crazed minks last night'. It's not my fault, okay?" Rodney turned worried blue eyes in his direction.  
  
  
"Rodney," John tried again.  
  
  
"So, in the interests of damage control, I've already asked Jennifer if she would consider coming with me to that conference-slash-awards banquet I have to go to next month on Earth. I already knew you couldn't go, and it's just going to _suck_ having to stand around and hear praise being heaped on all my colleagues when I can't tell anyone what I'm really doing. So I figured I'd do the next best thing, which was to show up with a pretty woman on my arm. Jennifer will make an excellent beard, don't you think?"   
  
  
John began to cough, hard.  
  
  
Rodney was on his feet in a flash, patting him ineffectually on his back.  
  
  
"Rodney," John gasped out, eyes watering. "Where the hell did you learn that expression?"  
  
  
"What?" Rodney said gruffly, the hand on John's shoulder slowing to soothing little circles. "I read. So what? Is that a big deal?"  
  
  
John knew he should pull away, but the feel of Rodney's warm hand rubbing the plush fabric against his skin felt so good. He wanted to close his eyes and push up against him like a cat. "How does Jennifer feel about that?" John asked quietly instead.  
  
  
"She seems to understand," Rodney's crooked smile lit up his face. "She really is a very nice person and I do love her."  
  
  
This time John started to pull away, only to be stopped when Rodney's strong fingers gripped him by the shoulder. "The same way I love Teyla, or Ronon even. The same way I loved Carson and Elizabeth." His expression grew momentarily sad and then suddenly became incandescent. "But not the way I love you. There has never been anyone that I have loved like I love you. I know that now."  
  
  
Rodney flushed an embarrassed and uncomfortable looking red from the neck up, but he still hung on bravely to John's shoulder. And Rodney thought _John_ was a hero.  
  
  
"Rodney," John breathed softly, "Are you sure about this? I mean, you don't have to...you know...I'd understand if..."  
  
  
Rodney looked as though he was refraining mightily from rolling his eyes. "I can see the biggest problem we're going to have in this relationship is your lack of ability to communicate."  
  
  
A crackle of anger flared up; this had been a complaint that people had made about John in every relationship he'd ever been involved in; it seemed pretty early in the game to be harassing him about it now.  
  
  
"Fortunately," Rodney continued with an engaging, impish grin, "I learned Sheppard-speak in self-defense a long time ago. Words are not necessary."   
  
  
John must have looked doubtful because Rodney suddenly cupped the side of his face. He stared into John's eyes for a long moment and then leaned forward to kiss him. John's mouth opened readily for Rodney; already it seemed like it had been too long since their last kiss. He felt Rodney's lips curve into a smile against his.  
  
  
"See?" Rodney was triumphant. "It takes years of patient observation but it is possible to understand you when you say nothing at all."  
  
  
John narrowed his eyes and pulled Rodney roughly up against his chest, latching onto Rodney's mouth aggressively and telling him with his tongue what he'd like to do with other parts of Rodney's body. A big, warm hand slid in between the opening of his robe, another began to squeeze his butt cheeks rhythmically as Rodney responded to his display of interest.  
  
  
"What am I saying now?" John breathed into the side of Rodney's neck, grasping his earlobe lightly between his teeth and pulling gently as Rodney gasped and pushed up against him mindlessly.  
  
  
"You're saying let's go to bed and let me fuck you senseless until we wake up and then it's your turn to do the same to me," Rodney managed to get the whole sentence out with barely a stammer, rolling his head back as he spoke so John had better access to his neck.  
  
  
"Wow," John said. "Not only a genius but a mind reader too."  
  
  
Rodney grinned and then rubbed a hand thoughtfully down John's plush covered arm. "Keep the robe on?" he suggested a little breathlessly.  
  
  
"Yep," John nipped at the side of his neck. "A fucking genius alright."  
  
  
Rodney grinned back at him and John knew that everything would be just fine.  
  
  
 ** _~fin~_**


End file.
